Silver Flames
by Alexa S. Blaze
Summary: Sequel to Silver Smoke. Everything is finally going well for the Avengers. Crime rates are down, Samantha's back, and Thor's stopped harassing ducklings. But all good things come to an end, as Tony comes up with a disastrous plan to use Sam as bait for the new villain, Loki's old ally. Oh, and Steve's got to find the guts to tell Sam he loves her - before she goes insane. STEVExOC
1. To be a Friend

**Author's Note: Hello, fellow readers and writers! Welcome to Silver Flames, the second book in the _Silver _trilogy, and the fourth _Silver _book I've posted (Silver Ashes was a prequel)! I must warn you, if you haven't read Silver Ashes, Silver Smoke or even Melting Silver - STOP NOW. Do not read ahead. I'm warning you, this won't make any sense. But thanks for checking it out anyway :D lots of exciting stuff will happen in this book, from a new villain who is allied with Loki to a lot of Sam's-brother-Luke action. **

**Welcome to the new readers, and a huge welcome back to the old ones :D thank you all so, so much for continuing to follow Sam and Steve's story. I promise you, this book will have a lot mre SamxSteve action in it :D thanks again for hopping on over! Just a reminder (as if you didn't already know), I don't own the Avengers or any Marvel characters. **

**This chapter's short; it's just exposition/set-up. But I hope you enjoy anyway, and please leave me a review to either tell me you're reading this next SamxSteve story, or let me know what you thought of this chapter! I'd love to hear how many people are actually reading this :P**

**Thanks again, everyone, and as always - READERS ASSEMBLE!**

* * *

Tony Stark's POV

_A daughter is a little girl who grows up to be a friend. _

_-Author Unknown_

Welcome to the story of my life.

Well, technically, it's my life and a lot of other people's lives too, thrown into the mix. But let's not get technical - we all know I'm the interesting one.

Name's Tony Stark. You probably know me if you don't live under a rock. Or, if you've read those last two journals I've written in. This one - this is the third. "The start of something new." You know what the journals are for - recording our experiences with the Avengers. Saving the word. Kicking bad guy ass (and other body parts). Together facing threats no hero could stand alone.

This story starts in December - a while after the end of the last one. Surprisingly enough, life was good. Things were going smoothly. Everything was okay-

"Tony, I've got cramps. I think I got my period, do you have any Advil?"

. . . Oh, God.

"Do you know what it's like to get your period? It freaking sucks. It's like, you get all moody and just want to stab everything with a fork, and then your acne starts acting up, which makes it even worse. And then, oh my god, not only are you in a bad mood, but you get mood swings. Like, you go from pissed-off to angry to upset and crying in like, two hours. Plus, there are these damn _cramps_ that you have to deal with-"

I covered my ears with my hands, blocking out Sam's moaning as I tried to erase that newly-acquired information from my mind.

Samantha Silverman has many titles: founding Avenger, superheroine Masquerade, Captain America's girlfriend, Roman history expert . . . She's a lot of things. The primary is _annoying_.

But in all honestly, I love Sam. She's like me, except 19 years old and blonde and not as attractive. I've known her since the Avengers first formed to fight Loki, and she showed up to help out as Masquerade - Sam's got control over the four elements: earth, wind, fire and air.

And yes, she was now Captain America's girlfriend. There had been a lot of drama the past year - Sam moved to Rome, shit went down, she moved back to New York City, and Cap's forgiven her for abandoning him. They're back together now, trying to work things out.

"Will you stop talking for once in your life?" I snapped, taking my hands away from my ears.

She made a face. "Whoa, it's _someone's_ time of the month."

"_Yours_, as you just told me," I rolled my eyes. "I really didn't need to know that, Sammy-"

"I was enlightening you. Maybe the information will come in handy one day."

"Come in handy, my ass."

There was a pause, before she added, "But seriously, you got any Advil?"

I banged the heel of my palm against my forehead.

"Mr. Stark," a voice said, and we turned to see an impeccably-dressed man walking toward us. His suit was almost as expensive and gentlemanly as mine, which was saying something.

"I was not aware you were bringing an . . . escort," he looked Sam up and down in disgust from her red Chuck Taylor's to her ripped jeans and from her messy blonde hair to the oversized white t-shirt she was wearing - it was Captain America's, as a matter of fact; Sam had stolen it from him before she left.

"This is Samantha Stark, my daughter," I said smoothly. She shot me a sharp look, but said nothing; just played along.

"I apologize," the man said hastily, and suddenly his entire attitude changed. "But - I did not know you had a beautiful young daughter!" he said, still looking at the poor girl, whose expression turned to one of annoyance. "I have a son, you know - very handsome, very wealthy, looks to be about your age-"

"She was with her mother in - uh, Sweden - for the past few years," I interrupted the man's attempt at matchmaking. "That why you've never, uh, heard about her." I scratched my nose.

The man frowned, but didn't comment. "I see. Well, my name is Volodymyr Stankovich, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise," Sam grumbled, obviously uncomfortable with the way he was staring at her.

I began, "Mr. Stankovich, we're here-"

"I know why you're here, Mr. Stark," the man shook his head. "We have been business partners for some time now, no? But . . ."

"I'm looking into nuclear energy now," I nodded, tapping my foot on the ground. "And you have access to-"

"Chernobyl," the Ukrainian man said grimly. "Yes, I know. You want to see Chernobyl."

* * *

We clomped through the streets towards the power plant, our hazmat suits making it difficult to walk. Sam shot me a sarcastic thumbs up as we trudged on, following after Stankovich, a few scientists and a bodyguard or two.

"Chernobyl was a nuclear power plant that exploded back in 1986," he narrarated for us. "Back then it was part of the USSR, but it is actually Ukrainian. When the plant exploded, radiation was leaked all across Europe and it become the worst nuclear disaster in the history of the world," he said ominously, and I rolled my eyes. "The surrounding areas were evacuated and will not be liveable for another 200,000 years, so high are the radiation levels."

"But you're letting us in anyway," I pointed out.

Stankovich sighed. "We have hazmat suits and technology to tell us if the radiation levels are too high," he held up a small beeping handheld device. "Still, we cannot spend long here."

"I don't need long," I mumbled under my breath.

"I was only able to get you in," Stankovich continued on, "because of my high standing in the government and my work in researching this place. You are welcome, Mr. Stark. But . . . I do not see why you had to bring your daughter in on a dangerous business matter," he frowned, looking over at Sam, who was waddling like a duck in her hazmat suit.

"Father-daughter bonding time. Extreme tourism. Trying to get her interested in the family business. All those goodies," I brushed it off. "Now, as I've told you in our meetings, Stark Industries is looking to invest in nuclear energy and weaponry. Stankovich Enterprises - your company - is already a partner of mine, and I'd like your assistance with it."

"So where does Chernobyl come in?" Sam asked, as we reached the foot of the abandoned power plant and were ushered inside.

"Two reasons. One, to learn from their mistakes, and two, to research the radiation levels."

"Radiation? Why'd you bring me, then? Why not Doctor Banner?"

"He's a gamma radiation expert. This is nuclear radiation."

"Whatever."

As we headed closer to the heart of the building, I could've sworn I saw a flash of blonde hair, disappearing around the corner. But the only blonde here was Sam, who was wrapped up in a hazmat suit - I couldn't see any of her hair. Someone else was here with us.

Just as I thought.

When we turned down the hall, there was a greenish sort of light to the air, like a trail of smoke had been left. I seemed to be the only one who noticed, and once we were inside the main room, I saw more greenish light emitting from a lot of the machines.

"When was the last time someone's been here?" I asked.

"Oh, a long time. This area is strictly off-limits," Stankovich murmured. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Because the machines showed signs of tampering with. _Recent_ tampering with. And the dust had been wiped away from the screens.

Another flash of blonde hair out of the corner of my eye; prints and bottles missing here and there. We weren't alone.

I tried to do some investigation - like Sherlock Holmes - to figure out who the intruder was. But I couldn't do that, and my Stark Industries business stuff, in time; we had to return out of the Zone soon enough, and I bid Stankovich farewell as Sam and I got in a waiting limousine ourside of Chernobyl.

"Mr. Stark. Miss Stark," Stankovich tipped his hat to us. "My chauffeur Raoma will return you to your hotel. Lovely girl, she is," he glanced at Raoma, the woman in the front; she smiled at us, revealing perfectly white teeth and a head of curly blonde hair.

We had barely pulled away from Chernobyl when Sam spoke up. "Annnnnd why did you have to drag me here again?"

"Do you _ever_ listen during our Avengers meetings?"

"No."

I sighed, shaking my head.

"Well, I know the whole Stark-Industries-nuclear-energy thing was just a cover-up for some fancy Avengers crap. That's why you brought me along," she admitted.

"Precisely," I nodded. "Although I actually did need to do some business with Stankovich. That was, admittedly, the primary reason for this trip."

"And the secondary?"

"Someone's been tampering with the old technology at Chernobyl. Experimenting with the leftover nuclear radiation. Nick Fury wanted me to come check it out - said reliable sources told us it was something not quite human."

". . . A mutant? Left over from the explosion in 1986?"

"No, Sammy. Just . . . something. And nuclear power is nothing to joke about, so Fury sent me right away."

"Since when have you worked for Fury?"

I ground my teeth together. "I don't. This was just an addition to my visit with Stankovich."

"Riiiight. You lost me."

I rolled my eyes. "There was definitely something there. Didn't you see the recently-used equipment? The green whisps everywhere?"

"Yeah, I saw it," Sam ran a hand through her hair. "You think that's our mystery villain?"

"Sure."

"Avengers work. So much effort," she sighed, banging her head against the seat in front of her.

"Hey, all you have to do is stand there and look pretty. I only brought you for company and backup in case something went wrong."

"Yeah, since I'm - you know - Samantha Stark and all," she shot me a look. "You do know my last name's _Silverman_, right? We've always said I'm just like a daughter to you, but since when have I actually _been_ a daughter?"

"Since today," I frowned, pulling my phone out of my pocket. "Look what came up, Sammy."

I pulled up the webpage of The Daily Bugle - a popular newspaper in NYC - on my phone's browser, and flashed the top story at her. TONY STARK FUNDS MYSTERY WOMAN'S EDUCATION, the title read.

"The press got wind that I payed for your university in Rome, and for your housing," I explained as she skimmed through the article. "Now they want answers: who, why, why again . . ."

"So I'm magically your daughter? Somehow that fixes things?"

"They're getting too close to the truth for comfort, Sammy," I took my phone back. "Think about it: Tony Stark pays for some young blonde woman to live in Rome. Meanwhile, his fellow Avenger, Masquerade - a young blonde woman - is missing. No one knows why she's not fighting crime with the other Avengers. They'll put two and two together and realize you're Masquerade."

Sam paled. "Uh, I kind of _like_ my identity being secret."

"I know," I shook my head as the driver neared our hotel.

"So . . . you're giving the press a fake story about me being your _daughter_ to stop them from sniffing for answers," Sam pieced it together. "It's reason enough for you to fund Rome."

"Yeah, and as soon as they've got _that_ story to play with, they'll stop researching the Masquerade aspect. They only hear what we tell them, Sam. So for now on - at least until you're out of the spotlight - you're my daughter. They'll be too busy chasing their tails to figyre out who you really are. Your identity should be safe."

"Technically, I won't be lying on legal documents, either, it I just sigh everything as 'Sam S.' Stark, Silverman - what's the difference?" Sam sighed. "This is a retarded plan," she raised her eyes heavenwards.

"But you got anything better?"

"No."

"Didn't think so," I said smugly.

I did some shopping (and by that I mean buying other companies and businesses), before we visited a few colleagues of mine in the Ukraine - really working the Samantha Stark angle, too. Later that day, I finished up my nuclear planning business and dragged Sam onto an airplane - we were jet-setting to Rome so she could have a visit with her wheelchair-bound ex-roommate.

"You ready for the upcoming ball in a few weeks?" I asked, as the plane took off.

"Ugh, no. I'm going to have to run around, changing between Sam and Masquerade, now that I'm your _daughter_," she snapped. "It'll be expected that I show up."

"Well, sorry," I said sarcastically, as she blew a strand of hair out of her face.

"No, but seriously, I'm actually super excited," she smiled for real this time. "It's going to be so fun. Janet's going to design both me and Masquerade a dress."

"And a mask?"

"There's a tiny Venetian mask shop in Brooklyn. I'll go there. You?"

"That was my plan, too."

"Great minds think alike," she winked.

It had been planned for months now - the first annual Masquerade masquerade ball. Sam decided she actually wanted to give back to the community, or something retarded like that - so with Pepper Potts and Janet Van Dyne's help, she organized an entire charity ball, hosted by none other than the superheroine "Masquerade". It was, of course, a masquerade ball. Already, it was guaranteed to be huge - A-list celebrities and politicians were all clamoring to get a spot on the guest list, whether it was to be at one of the most pretentious events of the year or just to rub elbows with an Avenger, I didn't know. All proceeds were going to help mental illness: the cover was that Masquerade's belief was that most super-villains only became villains because something was off-kilter in their brains. The _real_ reason that was the case (and I was one of very few people who knew this) was because Sam - and her brother - both had clinical depression a while back. Sam's was spurted from a mentally abusive relationship she was in while in Rome, with Wolverine's son Daken.

I settled in to make some calls to Stankovich's men, regarding business. If things went smoothly, my work in the Ukraine would be done by the end of the week; Sam's visit with her Italian friend Caterina would be brief, and we could return back to New York sometime next week. I knew Sam was anxious to get back to Steve Rogers - Captain America.

Since she "officially" returned from Rome, having completed exams sometime during the summer, they had been almost inseparable. Steve hadn't let her out of his sights, probably afraid she would disappear again - and she had stayed by his side whenever she could, reluctant to let him go once more. It was odd, in a way - just looking at her now, I could almost _see_ the pain that even their brief separation was causing her, etched across her face.

Sam winced. "Tony, you sure you don't have any Advil? My cramps are getting worse-"

Okay, maybe it was a different kind of pain.


	2. A Difficult Realization

Steve Rogers' POV

_Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real._

_- Iris Murdoch, __Existentialists and Mystics Writings on Philosophy and Literature_

"So, guess what. I got the new Batgirl comic a week or two ago. I'm sorry, but Barbara Gordon is freaking _amazing_. I think it's so cool that people are making up fake superheroes and drawing and selling comics about them and making movies. I know they're fake, but it's a nice break from all the real, angsty heroes in the real world. I think you'd like Superman, Steve. Personally, I think he's a bit annoying - I mean, he's so _perfect_ that no one can really relate to him. And Tony would adore Batman, I bet, since his secret identity is a billionaire playboy, and he's got no power, just money, like-"

I cut Sam off with a kiss on the mouth.

"Well, that was a bit rude," she sat back and glared, but the leaned forward to kiss me on the mouth again as she snaked a hand around to the back of my neck.

We (meaning Samantha Silver and I, Steve Rogers - better known as Captain America) were sitting in Tony Stark's private jet, en route to Chicago, Illinois. Sam had just returned from a two-week trip across Europe, helping Tony with S.H.I.E.L.D assignments and with Stark Industries' new nuclear division, and re-visiting her old home and friends in Rome. I hadn't talked to her since she'd left. As cheesy as it sounded, it hurt to be away from her for so long - it reminded me of how she left for Rome all that time ago, and how I never got to talk to her then.

But now she was back, and I was honestly so, so glad to see her. It seemed the feeling was mutual – she wouldn't stop talking.

"I'm so tired, Steve," she moaned, leaning into my chest and burrowing her head in my armpit. "The flight from London to New York was, like, 7 hours, and even though it's Tony's freaking private jet, it's still uncomfortable. I was in New York for _twenty hours_ before you showed up and Tony left for Avengers Tower and BAM, we're leaving on the two-hour flight to Chicago. And then we're returning to New York City later tonight," she groaned.

"You can have a nap, Sam," I said, examining a strand of her golden-blonde hair.

"But I haven't seen you in two weeks," she blushed, sitting back.

"I won't mind if you fall asleep, honey," I smiled softly to show her it was okay. "The time change is messing you up anyway."

She made a grumbling noise, and then leaned against me again. "I'm excited and, well, kinda scared for you to meet my family," she said into my chest, her voice muffled.

"Don't worry about it, Sam," I wrapped my arms around her. "It'll be fine."

She sighed, her chest rising and falling. "I have no doubts that they'll love you, Stevie. Everyone loves you. You're the most decent man I've ever met. Seriously, I should be more worried that my mom will fall in love with you than that they'll accept you," she snickered. "But . . . I don't know. It's still scary."

"Can't believe I haven't met them yet," I murmured. Today, Sam and I were flying to Chicago so I, as her boyfriend, could meet her mother and brother; Mrs. Silverman was preparing a special dinner -

"Wait. Do I call her Mrs. Silverman?" I asked Sam, thinking of how her mother and father had been divorced for over a year and a half now.

"You know you can call her by her first name, Grandpa," Sam teased. "But, uh . . . I think she goes by her maiden name now. Um, Engebretsen." There was a pause. "You know what, just call her Mrs. Silverman."

"Is Engebretsen . . . Norwegian?"

"Yeah," Sam yawned. "So technically, my great ancestors worshipped Thor and Loki. And stuff. Which is actually really weird if you think about it."

We sat in silence for a while, staring out the window at the clouds below us until Sam finally said, "Stevie, I'm really sorry, but I can hardly keep my eyes open. I think I'm going to have that nap . . ."

"Don't worry about it," I smiled at her. She rested her head on my shoulder and was asleep quickly.

I stared down at Sam thoughtfully. After, what, how many months of dating? Six? In any case, we began dating as soon as she returned from her university exams in Italy, and after all that time, I knew her better than she knew herself. I recognized that her nail polish was chipped not because it was old, but because she had anxiously picked at it; I knew that the blue stains on her fingers were from a pen, which she probably had used to write a list of to-do things: she did that when she was stressed. The pizza stain on her shirt wasn't a result of messy eating, it was a result of nervous distraction; and the skin irritation on her neck only acted up when she was distraught – it was acting up now. Either Sam's time in Europe had been stressful, or she was more nervous about me meeting her family than she was letting on. But that scar on her forehead, just under her hairline – the one she got while fighting the Mandarin – that scar only turned pink, like it had now, when she felt safe. Secure. And Tony told me that usually happened when I was around.

It wasn't just the little things that I recognized about her. I knew what she would dress up as for Halloween before even she did (a unicorn), and I knew that whenever I caught her eating Nutella with her Autumn-scented candle burning beside her, it meant it was her time of the month. Sam couldn't hide anything from me; not anymore. I loved her. I was _in_ love with her.

Everyone knew it was bound to happen eventually. We had met in the month of May the year before, and "technically" hadn't started dating until July of the next year; it was December now, and I wasn't afraid to admit to myself that I had fallen in love with Sam. But admit it to _her_? I wasn't quite ready for that yet. As Tony Stark liked to point out, my biggest weakness was women.

The rest of the flight was smooth; we landed safely, so I woke Sam up. Even after less than two hours of sleep, she was incredibly refreshed: she started talking even more than before, telling me about Europe and barely breathing and she told her stories. I loved this side of Sam. Towards strangers, she was sullen and sarcastic; a lot like Tony. But when it was just the two of us she was a lot different, and I loved her like this. I guess it was because she knew me so well, and that she was more comfortable around me; she let her guard down.

We arrived at her family's place forty minutes after landing; it had been a short taxi ride from the airport. I'd been to Chicago to visit her before, but never to meet her family; we had stayed outside, usually walking around the city.

Sam's mother and brother Luke lived in an apartment near Luke's high school. Her brother was in the eleventh grade now, and I had actually met him briefly, back when he was in grade nine. If there was one person in this world who Sam loved the most, who she would do anything for, it was Luke. Their sibling bond was amazing – they were best friends.

Sam let herself into the apartment with a spare key she had. She hadn't grown up in this apartment – rather, she had lived in a house while her father was still around – but since she finished high school, her mom and Luke had moved to the apartment. It was on the fifth floor of the high rise, with a balcony and state-of-the-art kitchen. It was spotless, and every horizontal surface was clear. The apartment looked exactly like the cover for a home living magazine, styled with modern furniture; yet, it had a distinctly well-loved and lived-in feel. It was an awfully nice place: not really my taste, but definitely something high-end and popular. It was only one floor, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The front door opened into a hallway, and Sam kicked her shoes off into a closet before walking down the hall to the living room.

Sam snorted. "Looks like Mom actually cleaned the place. Shows how much she's actually excited to meet you."

"Hello?" she called out to the apartment; no one responded. I followed her, marveling at the space as she walked over to the kitchen. There was a note on the counter, and she picked it up and read it. "Mom's at the grocery store," said Sam, "buying stuff for dinner. Says my old best friend called and wants to meet you, Steve. We're supposed to meet Penny in a half an hour at Cloud Gate," she scrunched up her nose distastefully. "Sorry, Stevie. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, fine!" I smiled. "I'd love to meet Penny. You talked about her a lot when I first met you."

"Uh-huh," Sam put the note down. "I'm hungry. You want anything to eat?" She opened the fridge and peered inside. "Go check that pantry, will you? I think there might be cookies or a box of cereal . . ."

I leaned over, opening the low pantry door in the wall, having to bend down. Looking back at Sam, I caught her staring at my backside; I straightened up quickly, my face pink.

Sam blushed, caught red-handed. "Sorry, Stevie," she apologized. "Just, uh . . . I dunno. You have a nice ass," she hid her head in the fridge, turning as red as me. "I was just appreciating that your Cap costume is made of spandex."

There was a small throat-clearing noise; we both whipped around to see Luke standing in the doorway of his bedroom, one eyebrow raised. Her brother looked exactly like she did, except with short, straight blonde hair and paler skin. Sam squealed and ran over to crush him in a Thor-like hug; he coughed awkwardly, motioning for her to let him go.

"How're you?" she asked, smiling widely. "I've missed you. How's school going? You on winter holidays yet?"

"Fine. Missed you too. Good. No," he said dully - and I noticed with surprise that he was glaring over Sam's shoulder at me.

It was only then that I remembered the nature of our last, and only, meeting. Sam had been missing for a week, helping the Avengers fight Loki – but her family hadn't known that. So when she randomly showed up at her house with me by her side, Luke had jumped to conclusions. At first, he had thought Sam had run off to elope with me; afterwards, he thought I was a kidnapper. After she explained that I was "Like a brother", Luke had angrily wanted to know if he was being replaced. Things had cleared up in the end, though we both had to reveal our superhero identities to the young boy.

Now, Sam said, "Lukie, this is my boyfriend Steve Rogers." She grabbed my hand and tugged me forward.

"Yeah, I know," Luke said icily. "Captain America." I couldn't help but think of how Sam had described me as a brother back then. Things had certainly changed.

"Nice to meet you again, Luke," I nodded respectfully; he didn't stop glaring.

"You're the reason my sister left for Rome."

"Uh, no," Sam snapped. "I left because I wanted to study history."

"Well then, it's his fault you're back."

That was true, but Sam shook her head. "I'm back because it wasn't working out for me."

"I saw that article in the newspaper. 'Love on the battlefield.' And the video clip of Captain America kissing Masquerade."

"So?"

"So you've hardly talked to Mom and I since meeting _this_ guy," he didn't talk his eyes off me. "You've been all secretive and it's only _now_ that you've let us meet him."

"She's a superhero. It's part of the job to be secretive," I said.

"But not to ditch the family and move to New York City."

"She's an _Avenger_. The Avengers are in New York," I frowned.

Luke narrowed his eyes. "You're the only reason she's staying around." He was right, but I didn't say anything. "You're the reason Sam keeps putting her life in jeopardy as Masquerade."

Sam laughed awkwardly. "Luke, you're overdoing the protective-brother thing . . ."

"You keep getting hurt because of him," Luke snapped.

"You got a problem with us?" she raised her eyebrows. "Honestly, Lukie, Steve's the nicest goddamn person you'll ever meet-"

"I don't like him."

"You've barely talked to him!" she shouted, throwing her hands up. "You don't get to pick who I date, Luke-"

"What about that Mark guy from high school? He was nice. _He_ didn't make you move to Rome and get freaking depression. Captain America's a thing of the past. That famous shield belongs in a museum," he spoke to me now. "_You_ belong in a museum."

Sam turned on her heel, matching to the closet and grabbing her shoes. "C'mon, Steve. Let's go meet Penny."

"I-"

"_Now_, Steve," she said, walking out the door and slamming it without waiting for me. By the time I turned around, Luke had retreated back into his room and slammed the door, too. I had no choice but to follow Sam.

We said nothing on the elevator ride down, or on the walk to Cloud Gate. I knew Sam well enough to know not to talk to her – she was in a bad mood, and if anything she didn't want to talk about it. Instead she sulked, a dark look on her face.

"He'll come around by dinner time," was the only thing she said.

Cloud Gate was a famous public sculpture in Millennium Park that basically looked like a big mirrored bean, sitting on the ground. Chicago was known for its architecture, so it wasn't abnormal to have a sculpture like this in the park. You could see your warped reflection in the polished silver surface that resembled liquid mercury; Sam and I stood underneath Cloud Gate, looking at our faces in the endless mirrors. Penny showed up right on time, a bubbly young woman the same age as Sam. She had pin-straight dark brown hair, and she wore a black headband to keep her hair off her face, along with a large brown overcoat, as it was winter and the wind was cold – we were in the Windy City, after all. To our surprise, Penny showed up with a companion.

"Dana?" Sam squinted at the tall raven-haired girl with the glasses, who smiled weakly. I recognized the name: Dana was Sam's ex-best-friend, who had abandoned her after Sam burnt down their high school by accident.

"She wants to talk to you and make up," Penny glared at Dana, explaining after introductions had been made, "while I talk to this yummy boyfriend of yours!" Penny smiled brightly. Sam pouted, but went off with Dana while Penny proceeded to threaten me in about five different ways - all things she would do if I hurt Sam, including "Buy you a puppy, make you fall in love with it, and then drown it in front of you!" Seemed to me she was a bit odd on the inside – a bit immature.

Over on Sam's side of things, there was a lot of yelling – Sam was still sore about the Luke mess - but they came back to us all smiles. Dana apparently "approved" of me, and we set off for a walk around the park.

Somehow, our conversation got on to talking about the Avengers. "It's so weird, isn't it?" Dana scrunched up her nose, just like Sam did sometimes. "How those superheroes are really just normal people, walking among us right now. They could serve you coffee at Starbucks in the morning, or they could yell at you for not paying your rent. They act just like us, but they're so much more." Sam and I exchanged a glance.

"Yeah, I mean, you never know," Penny chuckled lightly. "Steve could secretly be an Avenger! Who do you think he'd look best as?" she frowned.

Dana made a frame with her fingers and stuck it out in front of her, squeezing an eye shut and looking at me through it. "Captain America, I think. He's certainly got the jaw," she giggled.

Sam coughed. "Nah, Steve's nowhere that interesting. He's a museum curator in New York City," she stumbled over her words. That was our cover for me – we very well couldn't tell people I actually worked with S.H.I.E.L.D, and split my time between them and the Avengers.

"Museum curator?" Dana raised her eyebrows. "That's kind of . . . boring."

"I used to be in the army," I defended myself, but then regretted it. That wasn't part of the cover. Immediately, the girls had all sorts of questions, which were rather awkward to answer, since I had been in cryogenic state for the last seventy years and had no idea what the military had been doing since World War II.

I saved myself with a quick excuse, though: "It's . . . kind of a difficult to talk about," I said, which wasn't untrue. "A lot of good men died, and I saw a lot of horrible things. I . . . it's too hard to talk about." The girls were falling over themselves to apologize.

"So, how did you guys meet?" Dana asked afterwards.

I cleared my throat. "Tony Stark's a mutual friend. He introduced us after I came back from the army, before I was a curator."

"And how do you know Tony Stark?" Penny asked Sam, her voice filled with awe.

"Um, my dad and mom used to work with Doctor Hank Pym, who's friends with Tony." That was, surprisingly, true. "I met him through Hank." That, not so much.

"Oh my god, did you hear? Mark's studying at U of Chicago," Penny gushed. "He's going to be a doctor. Like Henry Pym."

"Dr. Pym's a scientist . . ." I trailed off, but Sam's friends ignored me, obviously meaning the hospital sort of doctor.

"You really missed out there, Sam," Penelope said woefully. "Mark's going to be so rich when he gets older. And he only gets hotter with every year," she sighed happily. Sam bowed her head awkwardly: Mark was her ex-boyfriend. They had gone out for almost three years in high school; he had been Sam's first love, her first kiss, and her first time. The breakup had been Sam's idea, though, in grade twelve – she wasn't acting funny now because she still liked him or something. No, it was because she found it an awkward subject to talk about around me. Mark had been all those firsts for her, and she didn't feel comfortable talking about him with me. I found it cute – but I was thankful, as I wasn't really Mark's biggest fan. There was a point in time where I had been jealous of the boy.

"Oh my god, they used to be like, one name," Dana gushed, putting a hand on my arm. "SamandMark. With daily PDA in the halls. They were _the_ IT couple," she said sincerely, eyes wide. "But then suddenly halfway through senior year, it was Sam. And Mark. And that was just _totally_ weird."

"That's enough, Dana," Sam snapped, and her friend stepped away from me, looking a bit ticked off. Sam's bad mood was back, caused by the embarrassment of having me hear all those things. But I took her hand and held it as we walked to let her know it was okay. I didn't care about Mark; I still loved her. Even if she didn't know that.

"I think . . . I think we'll get going now," I said for Sam, sensing that she was tired and crabby and hungry. "It was nice meeting you, Penelope. Dana."

Penelope giggled. "Please, call me Penny. It was a pleasure to meet you as well," she smiled. "I can tell Sam's in good hands."

"Yeah, what she said," Dana re-adjusted her glasses. "You're not half bad, Steve. Even if you're a boring museum curator."

"Hey, I work in a museum, too," Sam frowned. _That_ wasn't a cover. Ever since moving back to New York City, she really had gotten a job at a history museum on Manhattan Island, using the extensive knowledge she acquired in Rome to help her with her work.

"Right, cool," Dana nodded absentmindedly. "See you, Sam." Penny's following goodbye was a lot more heartfelt, and included a hug.

We left the girls in the park, walking back to Sam's Mom's apartment and holding hands on the way, as we watched our breath make tiny clouds in front of our faces. The skies were grey, and I could tell it might snow within the next few days; the frozen grass seemed to justify my prediction.

I looked over at Sam, who was wearing a pink beanie hat to keep her wavy blonde hair from frizzing up. "You look really pretty today, baby," I said, squeezing her hand tighter. She raised her eyebrow at the nickname, but smiled anyway. "What?!"

"I dunno. It's just a funny pet name, I guess. Very fifties."

"I 'died' in the forties."

She looked down at her feet, changing the subject. "I'm sorry my friends are such airheads. Penny's better than that, though – she just acts like a complete dumbass around Dana."

"It's okay," I said. "They're your high school friends. No offense, but from what you've told me, I wasn't expecting much."

"It's okay," she sighed. "I thought I loved them to pieces, but they embarrassed me a lot today. It's high time I get new friends in New York City. I really should go out and meet more people, rather than hang with all the old guys at Avengers Tower," she teased.

Now. Now I should say "I love you." It was the perfect time: unexpected, but it would still work. Still be romantic, in a way. Totally random, but the right moment to pop it. Just three little words.

But I couldn't muster up the courage to say it. Not yet. Instead, I stopped walking, and leaned down to kiss her on the lips instead.

Sam sighed and reached up to run her fingers through my hair, responding enthusiastically and opening her mouth; I did the same as she leaned against me heavily, and I wrapped my arms around her.

Sam broke off suddenly, gasping. "Steve – you – again -"

"Sorry!" I cried, releasing her like a hot pot handle. I had a bit of a problem, I guess you could say. I was too used to using my super-soldier strength for super-soldier things – and quite often, I ended up holding Sam too tightly and cutting off her breathing.

She didn't care, though. Apparently, she found it cute. So Sam wrapped her arms around my neck again and kissed me on the lips, standing on her tiptoes. Then she pulled back and just stared at me.

I looked right back, admiring her beauty. God, I loved her. I really did. Sam was . . . she was the first woman I had ever fallen in love with. I mean, I had loved Peggy – but I hadn't been _in _love with her. And believe me, there was a big difference.

We walked back to the apartment, where Sam's mother was already in the kitchen, cooking. Lena Silverman looked like an older, skinnier version of Sam, although her nose was bigger and her face more gaunt. Her blonde hair was shot through with grey streaks, and her eyes were piercing blue, unlike Sam's stormy grey ones. Mrs. Silverman was a bit shorter than her daughter, and as a scientist I could tell she wasn't the strongest of women, but her fingers moved quickly and deftly.

"Hey, Mom," Sam smiled, giving her mother a huge hug when we entered the kitchen. Mrs. Silverman hugged her tightly, the muscles straining underneath her pale skin; she pulled back to examine her daughter at arm's length.

"Mom, this is Steve Rogers," Sam fumbled over her words, "my boyfriend."

"Why, it's certainly nice to finally get to meet you!" Mrs. Silverman gushed, walking over to shake my hand and look me up and down.

"The pleasure's mine, ma'am. Samantha talks about you all the time; you've really inspired her in a lot of her work." Behind her mother's back, Sam rolled her eyes.

"Oh, well. My, my," Mrs. Silverman pressed a hand to her chest, flattered and flustered at the same time.

"The apartment's beautiful, Mrs. Silverman," I added. "It's a really nice place that you've bought, and I can tell you take care of it."

"Please, please, call me Lena," she said, a bit breathlessly. She turned to Sam, her weathered cheeks pink. "Samantha, you've told me so much about Steven, but never that he was such a charmer!" I didn't miss the wink and thumbs-up she flashed her daughter; a sign of approval that was supposed to be subtle.

"He's not, he's just sucking up," Sam bit her lip, trying to hold back a laugh.

"No, I honestly like the place," I added sincerely. "Mrs. Silverman, is there any way I can help with dinner?"

She gasped. "Of course not! You're the guest, please, just take a seat," she fluttered her hands, pulling a chair up to the bar. "Samantha, come help me with the salad," she tittered.

"I can do it-"

"No, Steven, no. But would you like anything to drink? Wine? Water? Juice? Milk?"

"Just water's fine, thank you."

She poured me a glass quickly, as Sam set about with the salad. The croutons, she found, were hidden in the walk-in pantry; as she searched through it, Lena walked in to join her. Embarrassingly enough, I heard their entire conversation.

"God, Samantha, what a catch! I mean no offense, but in all my years-"

"You never thought I'd get someone as great as Steve?"

"Well, um, maybe . . . You know I love you, darling, and I think the best of you . . ."

"Offense taken, Mom."

"But he's so charming! And – so handsome! By god, he's one of the most attractive men-"

"_MOM_!"

Sam stormed out of the pantry, slamming the croutons down on the counter as I tried to hide a laugh. She glared at me, obviously knowing I had heard everything; Mrs. Silverman walked out, a cheeky expression on her face.

After the basic questions – my job, how I met Sam, where I lived – Lena moved on to talk to her daughter. As they took the steak out of the oven later that evening, Sam's eyes widened.

"Mom, this is not enough steak. Steve eats, like . . . a lot," she said.

"No, no, it's perfect," I tried to cover up anxiously.

"His metabolism burns five times faster than that of a normal human," Sam added – it was true, the super-soldier serum made me eat a lot more.

". . . What?" Lena furrowed her brown, and Sam noticed her slip of tongue.

"He just eats a lot!" she squeaked. "But, you know what, this is fine. Just the right amount of steak. Forget I said anything, Mom."

Right as they were setting the table, Lena broached a sore subject that set Sam in a bad mood for the rest of the evening. "Honey," she started, "you know that at work, I still work with your father . . . The restraining order's against you and Luke, not me."

Sam dropped the fork she was holding.

"He's been asking about you, dear. He misses you and he's sorry-"

"I don't care," Sam replied icily.

"I told him you were bringing your boyfriend over for dinner tonight. He really wishes he could be here. He's still your father, after all; he wants to make sure you're okay."

"No, he doesn't give a damn about me," Sam snapped, roughly pulling a plate from the drawer.

"Actually yes, he-"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Samantha, please listen-"

"No, Mom," Sam's hands were shaking – and I sensed an anger spell coming on. After being in love for so long, I knew the warning signs.

"He says he might try to come over for dinner tonight, even though it's against the law, and we think it might be good for you to see him again-"

"NO!" she shouted, hurling the plate in her hands at the wall. I leapt up just in time, though; I caught the plate, set it down, and then took Sam's trembling hands in my own. I lead her out of the kitchen and into the living room, sitting her down on the couch beside me. The scar on her forehead flushed white: she was angry, and no longer in control.

Sam's father was an especially sore spot for her and Luke. He was a scientist, and back when Sam was in Grade 12, he had been experimenting with serums like mine, trying to replicate it with a touch of his own - elemental controlling. That was how Sam had gotten her powers: her dad had been drunk one night, and injected her with the serum. Six months later, Lena divorced her husband and had a restraining order drawn up for her kids' protection, even though she still loved her husband. Another six months later, and Luke was diagnosed with depression, stemmed from his father's sudden disappearance – they had been close, and the betrayal had shook Luke.

"Sam, look at me," I said gently, holding her face in my hands and turning it towards me. "He's not going to show up tonight, okay? I won't let him. You're safe, don't worry." She shut her eyes, trying to calm the shaking in her hands. "Do what Doctor Banner suggested. Count backwards from ten, and take a deep breath for each number."

She did as I said, slowing her breathing. Her hands stopped shaking; her scar faded back to pink. I gently took her chin in my hand and leaned her forward to give her a small kiss on the lips.

"I'm sorry, Stevie," she said, opening her eyes. "I don't – I don't know what I'd do without you. Thank you."

"It's okay," I said, brushing her hair out of her face.

_Now_ I could say those three little words. But when I looked up and saw both her mother and Luke standing in the doorway watching us, I couldn't say it.

Lena had a dishcloth in one hand and the telephone in the other; they were both clutched to her chest, as she looked on apologetically. "I . . . I called your father. He's not coming," she said, ashamed. "Steven – thank you. I . . ."

"It's all right. Don't apologize," I said, looking at Luke, who was glaring darkly at me.

Lena said, "She doesn't usually do that, it's only started up since Rome-"

"_Mom_!" Sam screeched, getting up to storm away; I grabbed her and tugged her back, holding her on my lap as I pressed a kiss in her hair.

"Calm down, love. It's okay," I whispered, catching a whiff of the lavender smell of her hair. "Just sit here with me, okay? Calm down."

Sam exhaled, looking over at her family awkwardly; they got the hint and left, although Luke sent me a particularly nasty look over his shoulder before he disappeared.

"I'm sorry, Stevie," she said again, as I planted a kiss on her neck.

"Don't worry, Sam. Your mom . . ."

"She doesn't understand," she wrapped her arms around my neck, a pained expression on her face. "She doesn't know about," she had trouble getting the word out, "about Daken."

Back in Rome, Sam had gotten into an emotionally and mentally abusive relationship with Wolverine's son Daken, who was known as a villain to the super-world. He left her damaged – more violent than before, more prone to angry outbursts, a bit less controlled. Ever since he convinced her to become the villain Rampage and assist him with his attacks, she'd been a bit off-kilter – she enjoyed the fights with criminals now, finding them more fun than she ever did before. It was . . . unfamiliar and unusual, but I was working on getting her back to her normal, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly self. Of course, hardly anyone knew about the damage Daken had left behind – and therefore, her anger attacks were unexplainable to almost everyone who knew her.

"Dinner's ready," Luke called; Sam and I stood up.

"Hey, by the way," I said, "I'm sorry. About Luke. I'm jeopardizing your relationship with your brother, and-"

"Oh, my God, Steve. Not everything is always your fault," Sam snapped. "Luke's being an ass. You have no right to feel bad. I'm sorry that he's so rude to you," she shook her hair over her shoulder.

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts," she kissed me quickly on the lips to shut me up. "Can we just . . . have dinner, and then get out of here? I'm sorry I ruined everything. I'm just – I'm so tired, and it's been such a long day, with all the airplanes and time change and drama."

"You need to stop apologizing."

"So do you," she narrowed her eyes.

"Don't worry, we'll hop on Tony's jet back to New York City as soon as this is over," I said soothingly. "I'm sure you'll be glad to get into your own bed."

"Yeah," she nodded enthusiastically. "I – thank you, Steve."

"No problem."

C'mon, Steve. Say it now. Tell her you love her. Make this day _not_ a complete waste.

But still . . .

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the words out. It's so simple: "I love you." And yet . . .

Wouldn't it change everything?

* * *

**Author's Note: Welcome to those of you who have continued to the second chapter - and thank you! :D**

**So, I set up two arcs in this chapter. It was relatively fluffy and didn't explain much, but fear not - the next chapter shall answer any and all questions! If you're wondering anything, just pop your question in a review and I'll hop to replying.**

**Speaking of questions, a lot of you were wondering about Spider-Man and the Winter Soldier. I suppose I may as well respond now: yes, Spider-Man will be in this story, although his part won't be very big. And yes, technically the Soldier (Bucky) will be in it too, although he's not going to come in until the end. But trust me, he'll be the topic of many conversations in the chapters between then and now ;)**

**Spectacular feedback on the last chapter! Thank you all so, so much for the many great reviews, and thanks to everyone else who followed or favorited this story. I'm so glad that so many of you have followed me and the Avengers over here :D You're in for quite the ride! And special thanks to the astounding reviewers: _Guest, LunaTheLoneWolf, cucumbersrockursocks, Chester-Grey, brandibuckeye, Laurafxox, Tbonechick2011, scott6130, Lady Firewing, GoForTehGig, Human-Wolf Hybrid No.008, Shadow Realm Triforce, Torilovesu_ and_ CeffylGwyn_! The feedback on the first chapter was wonderful, and it made me so happy :) so thank you all!**

**Thanks for reading, guys, and please leave a review, telling me what you thought of this second chapter! I really appreciate everything you guys say :D**

**READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	3. Between Friends

Clint Barton's POV

_The love of my life is the love between friends._

_- Unknown_

"Tasha? What're you doing?"

I swear to God, she jumped at least two feet in the air.

"Holy crap, Clint, you scared me," Natasha Romanoff snapped, glaring over her shoulder at me. "You're basically the only person who can sneak up on me, dammit."

"I know, right? I'm just too good for you," I winked, sauntering over to where the redheaded Russian was sitting at a computer. "So, what's up?"

"Just doing some S.H.I.E.L.D work," she said, moving things around on the screen and typing on the keyboard.

"Really now, Tash."

"Yeah."

"You sure about that?"

"Uh-huh."

"One-hundred percent sure?"

"Yes."

". . . I'll give you one more chance, Natasha, and remember, I'm Hawkeye - I see everything. Are you really doing S.H.I.E.L.D work?"

She just turned and glared at me.

"I'm also your friend," I pointed out. "Believe it or not, I'm not going to run and tell Maria Hill you hacked the S.H.I.E.L.D files for your own purposes."

"Go away, Agent Barton. You're annoying."

"Aw, shucks. I try," I winked.

Natasha sighed. "Why do you even ask, Clint? We both know that you know what I'm doing."

I pulled up a chair on wheels beside her, so that I could look at the computer screen. "You're looking for the Winter Soldier again, aren't you."

There was a long pause.

Before I go any further, let me introduce myself. The name's Barton - Clint Barton. I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, Avenger, and master fletcher. Codename: Hawkeye. You may have seen me being awesome on the news. And this little piece of the journal that I get to write is basically Avengers catch-up. You know - where we've been since May.

Me? Well, no matter how cool I am, my story's pretty simple. I've been agent-ing around the world and avenge-ing in New York City. The end. If you're looking for a more interesting story, well, talk to anyone else. Seriously. Anyone. As much as it pains me to admit it, they've been doing more with their lives. Take Natasha, for example.

"James hasn't been spotted since May," Nat sighed, running her hands through her hair, "but I swear, he's out there. He hasn't contacted anyone, but I think he's still alive."

James Barnes - better known as _Bucky_, or the Winter Soldier - was quite the character. Back in World War II, he was Steve - Captain America's - best friend, until he fell off a train and "died". In reality, he was picked up by Russians, trained, and brainwashed to be their assassin. That's where Natasha came in.

"Why do you keep looking for him?" I asked, spinning around in the rolling chair. "What's so important about this guy? Even Cap isn't googling his name every five minutes."

"That's because Steve doesn't know how to use Google."

I frowned. "You know what I mean."

Nat sighed, shutting down her computer. "Steve believes that James will come back to us when he's ready, so he's going to give him time to work things out on his own."

"But you actually want to go out into the field and find him," I affirmed. "Why?"

Natasha didn't say anything; just packed up her stuff and stood to leave.

A year ago, the Winter Soldier was our greatest enemy, and he kept trying to kill us. Luckily enough he never succeeded, but he was certainly a threat - his amnesia made him forget that he was really Bucky, a good American hero. During May, though, in a confrontation with Cap, he had gotten his memories back. But Bucky had been overcome with self-hatred for all the things he'd done while working for the Soviets, and he'd run off. Steve offered to help re-program his mind, but Bucky said he just needed time.

Time that Natasha wasn't giving him.

"You loved him, didn't you," I pushed my chair over to block Nat's exit, still sitting in it.

"Love is for children," she snapped, trying to push past me.

I stood up, staring her down. "That's just your excuse, Nat, isn't it? You're afraid of what you really feel, so you go around telling people love isn't real." She slipped by me, and I followed her down the hall. "I mean, love _must_ be real - have you seen Sam and Steve? Seen the way they are around each other? But you're still hurting because of the Winter Soldier, so you choose to ignore it." Now, Natasha ignored _me,_ so I kept talking. "Look, Nat, I'm your friend. Practically the only one you've got. You can talk to me - I won't judge. I just want to make sure you're okay."

She sighed, turning to face me. "It's weird imagining you in love," I frowned. "But I think that's why you're so eager to find the Soldier."

Back in the days of the USSR, Natasha had been an intelligence agent and Bucky had been an assassin - their paths had crossed many, many times. And from what I'd heard, Bucky was the only man good enough to have ever earned the notorious Black Widow's love. I wasn't jealous - Natasha and I were just friends - but imagining her in love was an alien thought.

She stared me down, her gaze unwavering. "Someone's been killing sleeper KGB agents and taking out entire HYDRA and AIM bases," she said simply. "I think it's the Soldier. I want to track him down and bring him in - I want him to work with us."

"Whatever you say, hon," I raised by hands above my head in innocence. "I wish you the best of luck. And seriously - if there's anything I can do to help find him, just call."

Natasha nodded thankfully, and we turned and walked down the hall together. This Soldier hunt had been taking up all of Nat's time since he first regained his memories - it was all she'd been up to in the past six months, besides S.H.I.E.L.D freelancing and working with the Avengers. And if she, of all people, couldn't find Bucky yet . . . then no one probably ever could.

"You coming down to Avengers Tower?" she asked me. "S.H.I.E.L.D's flying nearby, and I was going to take the Quinjet."

"Yeah, sure," I shrugged. We were on the S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier, flying over the east coast of the USA - but I really did need to return to the Tower.

Avengers Tower wasn't always Avengers Tower. Less than half a year ago, it was Stark Tower. But since the Avengers were using it as their headquarters, and because we had all basically taken over the building, Tony had changed it to the official Avengers hideout. I was one of only three permanent residents: me, Natasha and Bruce Banner. Steve lived in Brooklyn; Thor was in Asgard. Tony spent his time between Avengers Tower and Stark Mansion, which was outside of the city limits. And of the remaining three Avengers, Sam had her own apartment on Manhattan Island and the husband-and-wife duo, Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne, "officially" lived in Jersey, although Janet spent a lot of time in NYC - she was a fashion designer, working on expanding her line.

Natasha and I piloted the Quinjet down to Avengers Tower, and what do you know, the first thing we came upon was Samantha Silverman, passed out in the living room. She slept soundly on the couch, but all it took was one poke to the shoulder and she sat bolt upright.

"Ahh! Clint. Hi," she smiled upon seeing me.

"What're you doing here?" I asked, heading over to the kitchen to make us some tea.

"Stopped by to see you and the other Avengers, but no one was home," she shrugged. "I took a little nap."

"You must be exhausted," Natasha walked through the living room, casually loading a gun. "Two weeks in Europe and then a quick dinner in Chicago before jetting back here . . . The jet lag must be killing you."

"Yeah," Sam said warily, eyeing Tasha closely. She didn't entirely trust the Black Widow. "Yeah, plus I've got to go back to work tomorrow . . ." she groaned.

Poor Sam was under a lot of stress. By day, she was a tour guide and museum worker at a history museum in New York City, and in the evenings she worked a second job as a waitress. Tony had made it a bad habit of his to go to her restaurant and pretend to be the most difficult customer ever. Honestly, I was surprised she hadn't been fired yet, Tony acted like such an ass.

And then, of course, Sam was an Avenger - Masquerade - by night. When she wasn't patrolling the city, she was training. Since she was the weakest of us, she tended to spend a lot of time in the training room, attempting to catch up.

Poor girl worked two jobs and an Avengers shift while still trying to train because she could barely afford her apartment and lifestyle. Tony had offered to pay - just like he had with her education in Rome - but Sam refused, saying it was her responsibility. So far, though, she was having a lot of trouble making ends meet. Thus, the two jobs. I didn't even know how she found the time to sleep.

I handed Sam her tea, sitting down on the couch beside her. "How was dinner with your Mom?" I asked, glad to see her again. I had to admit, she was one of my closest friends.

Sam groaned. "A disaster. Luke seems to hate Steve's guts for some reason, and Mom pretty much spent the entire evening telling Luke to stop being so rude. It was really embarrassing, actually."

"Aw, I'm sorry to hear that," I nodded. "Where's lover boy now?"

"Gym," Sam said. "Probably beating the shit out of a punching bag."

"Fun times."

"Sure thing."

Natasha rolled her eyes, walking away into the kitchen.

Two tiny cats raced into the room, chasing each other and playing. Sam picked one up, stroking its fur; the other jumped up on the couch beside me. "Hello, Batman," I snickered.

The cats - Batman and Trooper - were Sam's pets. Trooper had been her cat for a while, since she was in high school, and she had gotten Batman while in Italy. Everyone called the cat "Pipistrello", the Italian word for Bat, but I preferred the cat's actual name.

"You been taking care of my babies, Clint?" Sam asked, scratching Trooper beneath the chin; the cat purred.

I frowned. "It's not like I had much of a choice. Thor basically adopted both your cats, but since he's I'm Asgard, and they're at Avengers Tower . . . It's up to me and Bruce to feed them and change the litter. It's not like Tasha's going to do it."

"Aw, stop pouting," Sam poked me in the knee. "You know Pipistrello and Trooper love you. They sleep in your bed, no?"

"Yes," I crossed my arms over my chest.

Sam sighed. "Speaking of Banner, where is he?"

"In some lab somewhere, I think," I shrugged. "Working with Hank and a couple of scientists from Chicago." For the past six months, Banner had been under constant surveillance - we didn't want a Hulk-sized disaster. Lucky for us, he was calmest when he was in the science lab, and since Hank Pym was a scientist as well, they spent their time together.

"How's Jan? I haven't heard from her yet. I'm surprised - usually she calls as soon as I'm back from a trip. It's like she's got a sixth sense and can tell whenever I'm home," Sam pushed the cats off her, standing up. Outside, it began to pour rain; it quickly turned to snow, although the sky remained unnaturally dark.

"Working on her fashion line, I suppose. She's launching her new superhero-inspired line in NYC in a week, I think," I followed Sam out of the living room.

"Oh, right. She wants me to model for that," Sam rolled her eyes. "No, thank you. We don't need anyone figuring out I'm Masquerade."

"Last I checked, you were Samantha Stark," Nat raised an eyebrow when we entered the kitchen. "Playboy bunny and heiress."

"Excuse me?!"

Natasha sighed, grabbing the TV remote and flipping on the television set in the kitchen; she switched to a celebrity news channel and, what do you know, Sam's face was plastered on the screen. They were running some story about "Tony Stark's illegitimate daughter", who had been kept out of the spotlight until now because she had been living with her mother in Sweden. According to the report (which I can safely say horrified Sam), Tony had tried to fund her education in Rome, but she left to come back to the States and work as a playboy bunny - Tony was a playboy himself, after all. Apparently she got in trouble with the law a lot, too. The media was slamming her for wasting her father's money, being a bad example and staying off the radar screen until now; they had even photoshopped her into pictures at the Playboy Mansion.

Sam gaped at the television screen, unable to find words. Natasha turned it off, looking grim. "Gossip travels fast in America. At least now they've forgotten about Masquerade."

"I - yes - but - I - ahh!"

"Well, this sucks," Nat replied dully.

Outside, it began to thunder; the first clap was so loud that Sam jumped, still a bit distraught over the news. Lightning flashed outside; more thunder rumbled.

Sam ran to the window, peering out at the falling snow. Tiny little flakes were floating down from the sky quickly; her face lit up in delight, and she yanked open the window so she could stick her hand out and catch a few flakes. There was a bolt of lightning that hit the top of the Chrysler tower in the distance; the lights in Avengers Tower flickered twice.

"I love snow," Sam sighed, a huge smile on her face as she momentarily forgot her new role as Samantha Stark. "Winter has always been my favorite season. I've never been to New York City in the winter, but I bet it's going to look wonderful. Especially in the park," she turned to smile at me and Tasha. The lights in the kitchen flickered once more, and died. Power outage.

"Yes, but since when does it thunder during a snowstorm?" Tasha frowned; I saw her reach slowly for the gun attached to her hip. Right on cue, something crashed onto our balcony outside. Nat's gun was out and cocked before Sam could even turn around, but it was needless: our mysterious intruder was a fellow Avenger and the god of lightning. _Thor._

"Hey, buddy!" I cried, running over and opening the balcony doors so that he could enter. There were snowflakes in his perfect hair that he got rid of by shaking his head like a dog, spraying me and whipping me in the face. Sam and Tasha ran up, too, eager to greet the Norse god.

"What brings you back from Ass-gard?" I grinned cheekily, and he shot me a death glare.

"It is 'Asgard', friend, and I come because I bear sorrowful news," his voice boomed like the thunder around us, and I led Thor into the living room. He swept his red cape off his shoulder, towering over us as Tash slammed the door.

"I am need of the Avengers' assistance," said Thor.

"Well, that's no problem, bub, you're an Avenger. Course we'll help ya." I sat down on one of the couches.

Thor sniffed. "You remember, Man With Eyes Like Those of Hawks, why the Avengers formed?"

"Sure I do."

"There came a day, a day unlike any other, when Earth's mightiest heroes found themselves united against a common threat. On that day, the Avengers were born - to fight the foes no single super hero could withstand!"

"Did you rehearse that in front of the mirror?" Sam snorted.

"I thought it was cute," mumbled Natasha.

"Anyway - where are you going with this?" I asked, interrupting.

"That common threat was my brother Loki," Thor boomed. My lip involuntarily curled at the name. "And Loki has escaped from Asgard."

"What?!" I screeched, only to have my cry mimicked by the two women. "How could Loki 'escape'?!"

"You're shitting me, right?" Sam's face turned red.

"I shit you not, young Silverman. Loki has escaped from his prison and he is now missing. I believe he had help escaping - there is no other way he could have gotten out. There must an outsider; one with powerful magic. Not many can break the bonds my father made for Loki."

"What, so he's got a partner in crime now?" Natasha sighed. "Joy."

"Any idea who this magical person could be?" I asked.

"They are Asgardian, but that is all I know," Thor's voice was deep. "And yet, dear humans, this is not why I came here to talk to you. I could handle Loki's disappearance on my own," he sniffed. "No, no, no. I am here because there has been a disturbance in your atmosphere."

"Uh . . ." Sam's mouth flopped open.

Thor cleared his throat. "Someone has passed from my world to yours. It may be Loki! Or, it may be his partner - or both of them. Therefore, someone is on earth, and therefore, it is your problem now. Not just mine."

I sighed, rubbing my face with my hands. "There's only one thing we can do if that asshole's back," I groaned.

"We fight," Natasha steeled her jaw. "We've had enough of the small-time crooks. He's our next big threat - again."

Sam visibly turned a few shades paler. "So . . ."

"So," Thor repeated after her, looking grim - and slightly excited. "Avengers, assemble!"

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm sorry for the shit chapter, and I'm sorry for the late update. I really, really struggled with writing this chapter, and that's why it took me so long to post it. But at least it's over and done with now, right? We can finally get to some of the good stuff :)**

**Thank you to all the amazing people who have followed and favorited this story, and an extra thanks to those spectacular reviewers who left a comment: _Comiccrazygothgirl, Beautifully Tragic Girl, cucumbersrockursocks, erica . phoenix 16, Lovergirl24, Tbonechick2011, Lady Firewing, GoForTehGig, PJ-NCIS-TF-26, roxxirox, brandibuckeye, Shadow Realm Triforce_ and_ CeffylGwyn_! Oh, and welcome back to _LianaDare8_ :D thanks for returning! And thank you all for the kind words!**

**Have you guys seen the new Iron Man 3 trailer? IT IS AMAZING. IT IS MY LIFE AND SOUL. You have no idea how excited I am for Iron Man 3 to come out now :P that was a spectacular trailer. Honestly, if you haven't seen it yet, go watch it. NOW. **

**Okay, enough rambling. Until next time, guys, and please leave a review telling me what you think (about either this chapter, or the Iron Man 3 trailer! :D)! Thank you all so much for reading, and READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	4. What was War?

Samantha Silverman's POV

_I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask, "Mother, what was war?"_

_- Eve Merriam_

I stood in the gym, staring at the rows and rows of exercise equipment as I fixed my ponytail, trying to make it look like I was doing something. _Awkward_ . . .

What was I even doing here, at the local public gym? I had just gotten a membership this morning – even though I'd never been before. Why the hell did I even _need_ a membership? I could use the gym at Steve's, or at Avengers Tower. _God damn it Sam, you're an idiot. _

But I did have my reasons for going to a normal-people gym. The most important? I was tired of constantly having superheroes with amazing physique watching me train. I'm puny compared to Thor, and even though Steve likes working out with me – _seriously_? I feel so weak and useless compared to him, or any of the other Avengers. They're always watching. Always judging.

Obviously I'm the weakest Avenger – I'm the youngest, with the least training, I'm a female, and my powers don't heighten my physical body at all. Natasha's trained for combat; Hulk is, well, the Hulk. And there's me, barely out of my teens and although I can fight, I'm out of shape and I'm not very good.

So I came to this gym – this _public_ gym – for privacy. Ironic, isn't it? Don't get me wrong, I love training with Steve. He's given me so many tips that have helped me so much, it's ridiculous. But I just need a little alone time every once in a while.

Plus, it was high time for me to go out in public and meet people. Start making friends: build a life for Samantha Silverman, and not just Masquerade. Although who I'm expecting to meet at a gym, I have no clue. It's not a place people usually go to for socializing.

I ran on the treadmill for a while, completely bored out of my mind as I listened to music from my iPod – the score from _The Dark Knight Rises _(it made running that much more epic – as if I was going to determine the fate of the world just by exercising). I ignored the large television screen plastered on the wall, although every now and then I did catch a glimpse of myself up there – the story of Tony Stark's secret daughter had finally hit the airwaves. Maybe a public fitness centre wasn't such a good idea anymore.

The media was making up a lot of stupid stories to explain why I seemingly haven't existed for so long. My favorite? Playboy bunny. Hell yeah. I felt popular for once in my life: someone even photoshopped me into a picture of a bunch of slutty girls partying too hard. Fun times. I could only hope that my mom wasn't watching the news.

I got lazy and slammed my hand down on the emergency STOP button of the treadmill, thinking I would take a break and have a snack or something. I was already sweating buckets. But when I turned around, a girl stood in my path, watching me.

"You know that's the improper way to turn off the machine," she said. "That button's for emergencies only."

The girl was rail-thin and wore an entirely pink workout outfit; she had honey-blonde hair styled up big like a beauty queen, and acne dotted across her face. "The name's Cassie," she said, sticking out her hand for me to shake. "I can tell you're new here, and thought you might want to be shown around."

"I, uh - yeah, sure. That'd be great," I smiled at the girl, stepping off the treadmill and realizing she was the same height as me. She took me around the gym, introducing me to a lot of the machines and telling me how to work them. I knew most of it, but no matter what Tony tells you, he doesn't own everything: there was some workout equipment that was unfamiliar to me.

"This is my friend, Bethany," she introduced me to a chubby black girl when we got over near the exercise balls. "We hang out at the gym every Wednesday. It's like, our thing. You can totally join us if you want."

"That'd be cool," Bethany agreed, snacking on a granola bar. "But wait, sorry, what's your name?"

"Samantha . . . Stark," I tightened my ponytail. Oh right, I should probably introduce myself to this journal: I'm actually Samantha Silverman, ancient Roman history expert, super-heroine Masquerade, Captain America's girlfriend, Tony Stark's "daughter" and just an all-around amazing person.

"Stark? Are you referring to . . . Tony Stark?" a honey-smooth voice said from behind me.

I turned to see a woman as gorgeous as a supermodel standing. Honestly, she looked – perfect. Smooth, creamy skin and lightly toned muscles; wavy blonde hair that extended halfway down her back. She wore shorts that showed off her legs and a tank top that really didn't leave much to the imagination; her gorgeous face was set with bright green eyes that sparkled like emeralds.

"I am called Amora," she said in a silky-smooth voice, extending a slender hand to shake mine. "It is evident to me that Cassie has acquainted you with these facilities, no?"

I shut my mouth (it had been gaping open, _God_, how embarrassing) and shook her hand. Her skin was cold as ice, but her smile was convincingly polite as I was dazzled by her white, straight teeth.

"Yeah, uh . . ."

"And you are the child of Tony Stark?" she raised one perfectly-plucked eyebrow.

I nodded. "I, uh, like your name. Amora. That's really pretty."

"I know," she flashed me a smile. "Now come, Samantha, enlighten me with reasons as to why you have appeared in our," her eyes flickered over to Bethany and Cassie, "humble gymnasium."

"Just looking for a place to work out . . ."

"We shall be happy to assist you, should you require anything," she flashed another dazzling smile. "New friends are always welcome. Make yourself at ease, sister." Amora turned and flounced off, leaving me staring in astonishment.

Cassie leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Amora talks funny, but she's like, _super_ nice. Brought this little group together in the first place. She's a great friend, honestly."

"Right," I said absentmindedly, trying to figure out the weird feeling in my gut. "Amora."

* * *

I trudged down the street in the cold, watching my breath as it made a cloud in front of my face when I breathed. Shivering, I pulled my coat tighter around me, staring at the beautiful snow on the ground.

God, I loved snow. There was just something about it that made me feel happy and giddy; I loved to make snow angels and throw snowballs and build snowmen. Mostly, though, I just liked looking at the snow, watching it fall with a mug of hot chocolate in my hand and curled up under a blanket.

Pulling my scarf over my face, I smiled to myself as I made my way through the snowed-in Brooklyn streets. I had finished up at the gym, showered, and changed; but rather than getting into my car and driving back to my apartment in Manhattan, I decided to take a walk. Besides – Steve's flat was only a few blocks from the fitness centre. I was going to visit him sometime today anyway – why not now?

I rang the bell to the building he was staying in, and the elderly woman living in the basement answered. She smiled when she saw me – apparently before I came around, she had constantly been bugging Steve to get a girlfriend (she was a bit of a busybody).

I headed right on up to Steve's flat, opening the door without bothering to knock. He had a bad habit of keeping his door unlocked, but he said it was because back in the forties, no one ever locked their doors. Everyone trusted each other and had faith in their neighbors. He got quite upset when I told him it wasn't like that anymore . . . but he still didn't lock his doors.

As soon as I stepped in the apartment, the sound of trumpets and forties-style music greeted my ears. Something . . . something from the war. As I hung up my coat and scarf, I realized it was coming from Steve's computer (yes, he had one, and I had even taught him the basics of using it).

"War! With the forces of darkness pressing in from the East, from the West America heeds the call to fight for freedom!" a man's voice announced over the music. Sounded like Steve was watching old war propaganda videos again.

"And at the front of the fight, shoulder to shoulder with our battling boys is Captain America! A product of exciting new science, Captain America is the name every Nazi fears!"

I moved to stand in the doorway of the room that the computer was in, and watched in silence. Steve, wearing his familiar brown leather jacket, sat in front of the computer monitor, watching the black-and-white images of him and other soldiers playing across the screen. The music and announcer's voice emitted loudly from the speakers, and across the desk in front of him were littered many files and papers.

"He's out there, fighting for the land that we love, and he won't stop-"

Steve clicked the computer mouse, and the whole thing shut off: the screen turned black and the music stopped. Now, he sat there staring at the blank screen with his jaw clenched, unmoving.

"Steve? Honey?" I asked, moving into the room towards him. He craned his neck to look at me, and I nearly jumped out at his expression.

He looked so . . . broken. Not that I hadn't seen it before – this actually happened a lot. This . . . void. Back when Steve first woke up from suspended animation, he was hurting. He had lost everyone he ever loved; everything he fought for. And so he was dying a bit on the inside, every day; never being able to let go.

I was able to fill that void for a while, until I moved to Rome and he went back into a state of hopelessness. But now that I was back – and we had discovered his old partner Bucky was still alive – the void was practically gone. Steve was _happy_.

But there were still times when he relapsed.

"Oh, Stevie," I said softly, moving forward and taking his face in my hands, sitting gingerly in his lap. Steve's jaw was clenched, and I could see his eyes watering; I leaned against him, letting him put his chin on my shoulder and hold on to me tightly as he tried to fight back the emotions. He hugged me fiercely, hiding his face in my hair and breathing in deeply.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," I said softly, rubbing his back. "You're okay, Stevie." I looked at the files on the desk. HOWARD STARK: DECEASED, one said. CHESTER PHILLIPS: DECEASED, read another. JAMES "BUCKY" BARNES: DECEASED. STEVEN ROGERS: DECEASED. He was looking through old military documents.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into my neck. "I just-"

"Don't apologize," I hugged him tighter. "It's tough for you to adjust. I know. I understand."

He held me a moment longer, then let go and sat back. I kept my hands on his face, my fingers running over his cheekbone and jaw line appreciatively.

"I got lost on the New York subway today," he admitted.

"You could've called me."

"I was trying to get to Avengers Tower. Usually I just take a taxi, but I wanted to take public transit today for the first time. I got so confused," he said in his surprisingly deep voice.

"I'll go with you next time," I said, leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. "Teach you how it works."

"I know," he looked down. "I just wanted some independence, I suppose. I wanted to prove that I can figure my own way out in this world."

"Is that what spurred this memory relapse?" I glanced at the computer screen, and he nodded. My attention was distracted by the window; outside, large white snowflakes had begun to drift down from the sky.

"Hey! It's snowing again!" I cried, jumping up; I threw open the window and leaned out, staring up at the white sky. Behind me, Steve continued to stare at the floor, a depressed look on his face.

"It was snowing when Bucky fell off that train," he mumbled.

I jumped back inside, glaring at him. "Steven Grant Rogers, I _know_ it's hard for you, to try and let go. But you have friends in this era now, too. We need you to get your head back in the game, and stick to keeping your thoughts in this year. You have so many people who care about you, Mr. Super-Soldier. Thor loves you. Jan loves you. The old lady downstairs loves you. Fury loves you. The public loves you. Clint loves you. Hell, even Tony loves you. I lo-"

I stopped talking abruptly, and an incredibly awkward silence ensued.

In retrospect, that silence could've been avoided if I had just kept talking – because it was the truth, I did love Steve. Better yet, I was _in_ love with him. With all my heart.

How could I not be? Steve was perfection. He was handsome, he was humble, he was a gentleman, he was brave and kind and serious and selfless. I loved his awkward forties style, and I adored it when he blushed. I loved how he was Captain America, the most wholesome superhero you could ever meet. I even loved all his problems and all his faults; how he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders by always taking all the blame. He had a habit of getting involved in other people's problems, because he twisted the words around so that it was always his fault – Steve acted like everything was his fault. He was always thinking about others, rather than himself: I remember one time, when he was lamenting the death of astronauts. _Astronauts_, of all things! He said to me that it should've been him risking his life for science and going up to the moon, as if he needed to do every dangerous job in the world just so he could protect others.

God, after spending so much time around him, I loved him so much. It ached to be away from him, and everything I did reminded me of Steve. I was so in love – but I hadn't yet found the balls to tell him.

"I-" I tried again, fully intending on finishing the sentence, but he cut me off without realizing it.

"You wanna go see that huge tree at Rockefeller Center?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck – something he did whenever he was nervous.

"Sure thing. Can we stop and get some hot chocolate first?" I smiled, relieved at the change of subject.

"Of course, babe. There's a great place only a few blocks from here."

"Thanks, Stevie," I kissed him lightly on the cheek as we walked out of the apartment; I wrapped my scarf around my face and put my trench coat back on.

"What brought you out to Brooklyn?" he asked once we were outside, and started walking to the left.

"I was visiting a fitness centre," I said nonchalantly. "Besides – I like it a lot more than Manhattan."

"But you have an apartment in Manhattan . . ." said Steve.

I scrunched up my nose. "I hate the noise, and the pollution, and the huge crowds. Brooklyn is brighter, cheaper, cleaner . . . happier. Besides, Manhattan's further from you," I added cheekily.

Steve was quiet for some time, but I didn't bother to ask why. He got like that sometimes: really silent. It was usually because he was thinking hard through something.

"Sam," he finally said, just after we got our hot chocolates at a café and were hailing down a cab, ". . . You like Brooklyn?"

"Yeah," I caught the attention of one; it began to pull through a few lanes of traffic to get to us.

"Do you want to, um," he scratched the back of his neck, "move in with me? Like – come live in my apartment. I mean, my flat. With me. As my girlfriend. Live in my flat as my girlfriend with me. Move in. Live, um, together. Same . . . bed? I guess. Uh . . ."

The taxi pulled over to the curb, and I had to lean against it to hold myself up when I laughed. Steve blushed; that adorable pink color climbed up into his cheeks as he stood there awkwardly.

"You're amazing, Stevie, you know that?" I said, gasping for breath. "The way you get all – all flustered. When you ask me out on a date or something."

"I'm getting better!" he defended himself.

I stood up on my tip-toes to give him a peck on the lips. "I'd love to move in with you, honey," I blushed, avoiding his gaze as I ducked into the cab.

"Really?" he asked, astonished; I reached out a hand to pull him into the seat beside me.

"Really," I grinned, and he smiled back. "I practically live there anyway."

"But not as my girlfriend," he said, before giving the driver instructions as to where we were going. "This is more of a loyalty thing. We'll be more committed in our relationship, I guess."

He was right, of course. Half my stuff was at Steve's apartment – shampoo bottles, stuffed animals, clothing – but whenever I crashed there, I would sleep on the couch (well, actually, I'd sleep in Steve's bed and he'd sleep on the couch. He was too much of a gentleman). I knew that now Steve meant, well, a step up from that. As in "sharing a bed", which I supposed was a huge deal for him. Although, now that I think about it - I'd never shared a bed with anyone either. I'd had a roommate, and I'd had sleepovers with my friends, and of course there were the, uh, after-sex naps . . . but I'd never actually "shared a bed."

I was okay with it, though. I loved him – every bit of him, from his blonde hair to his piercing blue eyes.

The drive was a good half an hour, and we finished our hot chocolates long before it was over, staring at the snow outside while we window shopped and people-watched. Between idle conversations we played a game: whoever could count the most Salvation Army Santa Claus men had to pay for the taxi ride. I lost, but then made Steve give me a piggyback from the taxi's drop-off point to Rockefeller Plaza, so it was all good.

Once he put me down in front of the huge, gorgeous Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center, though, I'll admit it: I couldn't keep my hands off him. Ever since he had basically asked me to sleep with him (in the non-dirty sense), I had been wanting to kiss him. Take away that void.

He had barely let me down from the piggyback when I reached up and kissed him hard on the lips, opening my mouth. Steve responded with just as much enthusiasm, holding me tightly to him. To his complete surprise, I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist, knowing he was strong enough to hold me up.

"Sam," Steve broke away and said in a warning tone. His cheeks were tinged pink, whether from the kiss or the cold I couldn't tell. "There are families around, and I know what this is implying . . ."

I tried to kiss him again, but he turned his head. "Come on, Stevie. You're no fun."

"You don't really believe that."

I sighed, giving him a half smile and putting my feet back on the ground.

"See? The Star-Spangled Man With A Plan always gets his way," he winked. There was a short pause, and then an almost-urgent "When can you move in?"

"All my essential stuff is already there," I shrugged. "So basically, tonight. I can take the weekend to bring all my other crap to your flat."

"It's our flat now," he slid his arms around my waist. Something went roaring overhead; we looked up to see Iron Man flying through the skies, probably doing an Avengers patrol or looking for that new costumed NYC hero, Daredevil. Tourists snapped pictures; I just turned back to Steve and grinned.

"Think he's secretly spying on us?" I asked.

"Oh, most definitely."

* * *

**Author's Note: Gotta make this quick. School's hectic right now, guys, so that's why updates are slow, and shall probably continue to be for the next little while until I get my feet back on the ground. This was a fluff chapter, obviously :P but in-between all this fluffiness is set-up for the major plot, so keep your eyes peeled!**

**I haven't been able to check PMs yet, but I've seen all the wonderful reviews you guys have sent me. I'm glad that you all enjoyed the Iron Man 3 trailer as much as I did ;) Special thanks, as always, to _Tbonechick2011, LunaTheLoneWolf, cucumbersrockursocks, brandibuckeye, GoForTehGig, LianaDare8, erica . phoenix 16, scott6130, Lady Firewing, Awareness, Shadow Realm Triforce, Sofi Salvatore _and _CeffylGwyn! _Extra thanks to scott6130 for reminding me that in truth, I'm writing for myself :) you really lifted my spirits, so thank you for that.**

**As always, please review and telling me what you think, guys. I'd love to hear from you all :) and thank you for reviewing the last chapter as well! READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	5. Long Walks

Tony Stark's POV

_I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me. _

_- Noel Coward_

"Mr. Stark, you have a call coming in from Janet Van Dyne," JARVIS announced as I flew over New York City in my Iron Man suit, scouting out the winter crowds.

"Didn't I talk to her, like, seven minutes ago?" I snapped.

"Eight, actually, sir."

I sighed, slowing down my flight as I turned tail and began making my way back to Avengers Tower. "Fine, put her on."

There was a _beep_, and then Janet Van Dyne's over-enthusiastic voice came over the speaker in my helmet. She was a lovely woman, really – energetic, upbeat, and even somewhat intelligent – but honestly, she bugged the crap out of me sometimes. I had to put up with her due to the fact that she was the Wasp, a fellow Avenger, and the wife of one of my closest friends, Hank Pym. Jan could just be a bit overwhelming sometimes, that's all. She was a fashion designer and practically a celebrity, always trying to encourage the Avengers to go out in public more often. Last month, she had even tried to make Cap and Masquerade go on dates in NYC together. Needless to say, that project was dropped once the Masquerade ball planning sessions rolled around.

That woman could do anything.

"Tony, we had a last-minute cancellation from the florist and now we don't have any flowers," she didn't even bother to say hello.

"And you're telling me this because . . . ?"

"Because we need a florist! Obviously!"

"Oh, right. Obviously," I rolled my eyes. "Well, just call up someone else."

"But no one else is going to have dianthus flowers at this time of year!" she screeched.

"You'll figure out something, Jan. Take a chill pill."

"NO, Tony, you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. They're _flowers, _Janet. Just pick roses or something."

"Roses don't bloom in the winter either, moron."

"Well, excuse me for trying to help," I snapped, as I circled Avengers Tower. JARVIS brought out the spinning rings for me to land on, so my suit could be taken off as I walked into the building.

Janet huffed. "Fine. Whatever. I'll talk to Clint. _He'll_ be more helpful."

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

"Wait, wait. Tony. I need to speak to Sam."

"So why the hell did you call me?"

Jan moaned. "She's not picking up her cell phone. That girl is more unreliable than the Wi-Fi at Avengers Tower."

"Hey! I fixed that!"

"Mm-hmm," she sounded unconvinced.

I sighed. "She's making out with Steve at Rockefeller Plaza. Just leave them alone."

"Well, will you get in contact with her for me? The party's tomorrow evening, and she hasn't tried on the Masquerade dress I designed for her-"

"And, let me guess, it's being delivered to Avengers Tower within the next half an hour for her to try on."

"Twenty minutes, actually."

"Whatever. Got it. Thanks. _Bye," _I hung up, as the Iron Man suit was fully removed and I stepped inside the Tower, out of the snow.

Pepper walked into the room, a folder stuffed with papers in her hand. "Tony, the board missed you at the meeting this morning; you're the head of this company, and you need to start actually _showing up_-"

"Hello, Pepper, love. You're looking nice today," I said, slapping her on the ass as I walked off to the kitchen. She yelped, and I shook my head. "I'm not in the mood for work right now. I've got a visitor coming."

"Yes, but Tony-"

"But nothing," I winked. "I'll see you for dinner tonight, 8 o'clock sharp. Umberto's. Go make reservations, will you?"

"Actually, I have-"

"On second thought, make it 7:30."

"Tony, my parents are coming-"

"In the meantime, see if you can scare up another bedroom. Transform the lab into a room, I don't care. But we need a big bed, and a fancy – fancy something. You can figure that part out."

". . . Why?"

"Since when have you been allowed to question your boss?"

Her expression turned exasperated. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut in right before she could get a sound out. "Kidding. It's for me. And my room – get it cleaned and have the sheets washed. Our guest will use it. God knows how long he'll be staying, and he'll definitely want a proper place to sleep. See if you can find a fish tank, too. Filled with fish, obviously – and put it in the room. Don't forget the water. We can't have _dead _fish."

Pepper shook her head, staring at me worriedly. "This must be a pretty damn important guest if you're giving up your room to him."

"Not important – to me, at least. Just . . . picky."

Pepper shook her head. "And may I ask who our visitor is?"

I narrowed my eyes at her.

". . . You ever heard of Atlantis?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean that mystical underwater continent with mermaids and stuff? The one that was supposed to have technology way more advanced than ours, but the entire continent drowned in a tsunami or sunk in an earthquake or something?"

I frowned. "Let's back up a few steps. You ever heard of Nick Fury?"

Pepper gave me a look.

"Fine, fine," I waved my hand. "Well, you know better than anyone how many _connections _Fury has, both good and bad, and to people all around the universe."

"Yes."

"Well, through Fury, I have discovered some most marvelous intel," I winked.

"Let me guess," she sighed. "Atlantis is real, and a bunch of their fancy technology was just stolen."

I blinked a few times, my face blank. "How'd you know?"

"I have the passwords to all your S.H.I.E.L.D accounts, honey," Pepper smirked. "I was just giving you a chance to admit your secrets on your own."

I whistled low. "That's hot."

"I also know that you've been searching for homes to adopt Sam's cats, Batman and Trooper," she frowned. "Sammy's not gonna be too happy when she finds that out."

"Only I can call her Sammy!" I snapped. "And we very well can't have the cats staying _here_!"

Pep shook her head, scribbling something down on a piece of paper as I walked out of the room, intent on getting a glass of vodka. "At least check the news, will you?" she hollered after me. In response, I flicked on the television in the kitchen, and turned up the volume as Thor walked in. The god was currently staying at Avengers Tower, until, well, until he felt like going back to Asgard. He was staring intently at the screen of his iPhone – yes, I had given him one for Christmas. Bad – but hilarious – Idea.

"Who you texting, big guy?"

"The president of your country," he replied gruffly.

"Am I going to get another call from the White House because you've been harassing him with emoticons again?"

"No, this time we are having a legitimate conversation about mead and ale."

". . . Right," I rolled my eyes. "Where are Widow and Hawkeye?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D mission. They are attempting to track down the new superhero Devil of Dares in the York of New."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean Daredevil in New York?"

"That is what I said, Man of Iron."

I patted him on the back. "And Bruce? Where's he?"

"The good doctor is working with Hank Pym and Lena and Chris Silverman on a scientific experiment."

This actually startled me. "Silverman?"

"The Man of Silver and his spouse."

"Are they related to . . ."

"Lady Samantha, yes," Thor nodded. "Hank and the Man of Silver used to work together, and they are collaborating once more. I was instructed not to tell Lady Samantha."

". . . Yeah."

Well, this was news to me. Sam's mom and dad were friends with Hank? And what was more, they were actually working with him and Bruce? Most importantly – why hadn't I been invited to this science party?

But it did worry me a bit. Not the mom part – I trusted Sam's mom. Nice woman, really. But the Dad part . . . Sam's father was a bit of a touchy subject. He had scarred her emotionally, and now she couldn't stand talking about him; she hated her father. And to know that he was working with two Avengers might make her as angry as the Hulk could get. Especially since her anger's been off the charts ever since the Daken thing.

"What is a playboy bunny?" Thor asked suddenly, staring at the television screen. "I like bunnies."

"It's a type of rabbit," I quickly said.

Thor narrowed his eyes. "The Captain of America says I should not listen to anything you say."

"And he's right!" I clapped my hands, before moving to grab the vodka bottle and a water glass to pour the liquid into.

Up on the television screen, I was astounded to see a picture of Sam, bouncing around in clothing that left little to the imagination. "Samantha Stark: Playboy Bunny," the banner at the bottom of the screen read, and I now realized the origin of Thor's question. This must've been why Pepper had wanted me to turn on the television . . .

God, this was just depressing. After news of my "daughter" had hit the airwaves, the press had been eating the story right up. They loved it – I had an illegitimate daughter. But of course, now the public wanted to know why they hadn't heard of Sam before now – so some genius decided it was because she'd been hiding at the playboy mansion. Just great. That was exactly the kind of image Sam needed – her face photo-shopped onto a stripper's body.

There was a new picture up on the screen, this one a lot more realistic – and probably taken less than an hour ago. It showed Sam and Steve in front of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller center, holding hands and wrapped up in winter clothing. Now the paparazzi was going to hound _Steve_, too – "Samantha Stark's mysterious new boyfriend". Great, that sure would please him. My best guess was that they'd make him out to be a pimp.

Speak of the devil – Sam and Steve entered the room then, their clothing covered in snow. "I came as soon as I got Janet's text message," Sam said a bit breathlessly as I shut the TV off. "What's the emergency?"

"The emergency is that you have a dress fitting here in less than an hour," I rolled my eyes, and Sammy mirrored the action. They took their winter clothing off, and Sam and Thor joined me in the living room while Steve fixed himself a bagel.

We had barely even sat down on the couch when my entire wall was blown apart.

Thor, Sam and I were all launched off the couch and thrown against the wall; Sam scrambled to her feet and held her hands out in front of her, ready to attack. Thor summoned his hammer, and Mjolnir came ripping through a few walls to get to us. Great. More damage.

Through the dust and debris, a figure stepped forward. He was as tall and as muscular as Steve; his skin was pale, his eyes dark. He had a bit of an Asian face, and jet black hair that was in a window's peak on his forehead, not unlike Dracula. All of his muscles were exposed for us to see, for he wore nothing but a green Speedo. _Real _attractive.

"You know," I grumbled, sitting up, ". . . I have a door."

"Tell me why I'm here," the man said, his voice booming like Thor's.

"I invited you, dumbass – which means you're allowed to use the goddamn door! Not the wall!" I waved my hands around.

"Tony, can I shoot this clown?" Sam whispered over at me, not very subtly.

The intruder narrowed his eyes at me. "I have been among you for but a few moments, and already I grow weary of your company. I am not compelled by your whispered secrets. I am not awed by your castle."

"Actually, it's a high-rise . . ." I trailed off.

"I am a prince of Atlantis, and I am not one to be summoned lightly," he finished.

"It was an invitation, Prince Namor. Not a summons," I said, standing up. "Welcome to Avengers Tower. As you must know, I'm Tony Stark, and this is-"

"I do not care who you are. Make your point if you have one . . . before I grow impatient and rip this castle of yours apart to appease my boredom."

"Once again – high-rise." He frowned.

"Great, just what we need, another huge ego under our roof," Sam rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay, I'll 'make my point'," I said. "I recently found out," I stepped forward, "via Nick Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D director, that some of your fancy Atlantis weaponry has been stolen. And I think I might be able to help you get it back." I crossed my arms over my chest. "You still bored?"

Namor stepped forward, his muscles rippling underneath his skin. "Fine. I will listen to what you have to say. We may hold council."

I shook my head. "Uh, no. We're going to do things my way."

"I do not-"

"Listen up, Princess. You're in my house now. You're a guest, and you're invited to stay. But don't go blowing up any more walls, and try to keep your anger under control. We already have a Hulk."

"Who the hell _are_ you?" Sam interrupted, still poised for attack.

He lifted his chin up a bit, looking down his nose at her. "I am Prince Namor McKenzie the Sub-Mariner, ruler of Atlantis and Lord of the Seven Seas. I am half-human, half-Atlantean mutant, and fully superior to you, girl."

Sam was undaunted by his insult: "Holy shit. Atlantis is _real_?"

"Very much so," I stepped forward. "Let me explain, to both of you," I glanced over at Thor. "Yes, the lost city of Atlantis is real, and Namor the Sub-Mariner is their ruler. He's half-mutant, super strong, thinks he's better than me, blah blah blah."

There was a crash from behind me, as Steve – who had been in the kitchen – pushed through all the debris stacked up against the door, blocking the entrance. His shield was strapped to his arm, and his eyes searched to make sure Sam was alright (yes, I'm not blind, Steve, I know what you were looking for), but instead they rested on Namor.

Steve straightened, lowering his shield. "Namor," he nodded, but his voice had a tinge of coldness to it.

"Captain," Namor nodded back, narrowing his eyes. "It is a surprise to find you here. I thought the Americans' lab dog had perished during the War."

A muscle in Steve's neck twitched. "I've told you before, Namor, sometimes a little American elbow grease is enough to keep us humans going. I'm not as easy to get rid of as you might think." Namor smiled tightly, and I was unable to tell whether or not he was happy with seeing Steve.

"You two warriors are already acquainted?" Thor asked, lowering Mjolnir.

"We were both part of the Invaders, back during World War II," Steve stepped further into the room. "I never thought we'd ever meet up again, though. That was so long ago."

"The ruler of the seas does not die as quickly as you pathetic humans," Namor announced.

"I think you two will get along famously," I looked over at Thor.

Namor stepped up on top of the couch, so he could look down at us. "I will stay here with you, Tony Stark, but only for two reasons." He ticked them off on his fingers. "One, because I require my Atlantean technology, and two," his gaze darkened, "something has passed through earth's atmosphere and disrupted it. There is an unwanted presence on this planet, and I fear that it may affect Atlantis."

"Does this mean he's gonna become an Avenger?" Sam's lip curled.

Namor's head snapped up quickly. "My only loyalties are to Atlantis. If that means you people are in my way, so be it."

"He's not really an ally. Just an acquaintance, I guess," I explained to Sammy. "But look – both he and Thor have noticed something strange about the atmosphere. Plus, someone's been tampering with Chernobyl equipment, and Atlantean tech is missing. My guess is that it's all -" I clapped my hands together "- connected. And I'm doing work with Fury to figure it out."

"This appears to be Loki's doing," Thor glared at nothing in particular. "Only he would mess with the skies, the earth, and the seas."

"Actually, there are a lot of villains -" I cut in, but then stopped, deciding that maybe I'd leave Thor to his own fantasies.

"I shall require a room during my stay," the Sub-Mariner said, jumping off the couch and sauntering over to Sam, "and entertainment." His gaze was piercing. "While I may find you humans worthless, the sins of human flesh are still . . . appealing."

Steve stepped between Namor and Sam before I could even blink. "I realize we haven't been able to catch up, Namor, so I suppose I should tell you before you do something reckless and stupid: this is Samantha Silverman. _My_ _girlfriend_."

Namor's gaze hardened, but he stepped back. "Creep," Sam whispered under her breath.

"I think it's time we announce this slight change in plans," I shrugged off the awkward confrontation. "Avengers - assemble."

* * *

**Author's Note: Ew, omigod. Terrible ending. And this chapter was basically a big ball of unexpectedness and dialogue. I'm sorry. Really, I am. But set-up is hard and things pop out like this. It'll get better, I promise :P**

**Life's calming down a bit, now that Halloween's over. I hope everyone had a fun, safe night :) In the meantime, I'm going to try harder to get this story back underway!**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm missing out on a few of the regulars, but I guess it's because of the late update :P Anyway, thanks to _ClarinetRox88, brandibuckeye, cucumbersrockursocks, Shadow Realm Triforce, LianaDare8, erica . phoenix 16, roxxirox, Laurafxox_ and_ CeffylGwyn_! I really appreciate it, you guys :)**

**Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter, and I hope this one's all right :3 sorry there was no previous warning for this new character! Drop me a line, though, if you recognize who is he from the comics ;) thanks for reading, and please review! READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	6. Worth the Aggravation

Steve Rogers' POV

_As we struggle with shopping lists and invitations, compou__nded by December's bad weather, it is good to be reminded that there are people in our lives who are worth this aggravation, and people to whom we are worth the same._

_- Donald E. Westlake_

"I think we should get Clint bullets for Christmas."

I stared at Sam, startled. "But he's an archer."

"Exactly," she grinned. "Can you image the look on his face?"

"Why not just some tea? He loves tea," I replied, thumbing through a rack of dresses, looking for a Christmas present for Pepper. After Namor's arrival, Sam had dragged me out Christmas shopping while Tony entertained our new "guest". Not surprisingly, she already didn't like the prince.

After our quick Avengers meeting to introduce the Sub-Mariner, we'd high-tailed it out of there. "He's a fob," she announced when we left the Tower. "Literally. Fresh-off-the-boat. And I'm afraid that if I hang around him any longer, I'll have the urge to turn him into sushi."

She's normally a lovely girl. Not that you could tell.

"You know, we really should be helping with last-minute preparations for the ball tomorrow night. Not Christmas shopping," I pointed out, as she pulled a little black dress off the clothing rack and shoved it at me – so I could carry it along with the seven other outfits she'd already collected.

"Janet will be fine on her own, looking over details," Sam screwed up a face. "What do you think we should get Tony? He already has everything."

"A new car. We trashed his Bugatti Veyron in the attack against the Mandarin."

Sam glared at me. "I can't afford that, moron. Besides, he's already replaced it," she sighed. "I think I'll just donate a crapload of money to some charity that he supports. Maybe to a village in Africa or something."

"That'd be a nice gift – helping others, since he doesn't really need anything." We walked out of the clothing section of the department store and into the children's section, where Sam picked up a plastic Captain America shield, smiling.

"How cute is it that children dress up like us for Halloween? That they play 'Avengers' in their spare time?" she asked, striking a pose. "You think I could make a good Captain America?"

"Never. That shield's too flimsy." She stuck her tongue out at me, putting the plastic toy down.

"Okay, so we have gifts for Tasha, Pep, Jan and Thor," she said, looking at the rubber ducks sitting on top of the pile of clothes in my arms. "I do believe that's enough for today."

"You have to move some of your stuff into my place," I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, and the ducks fell to the floor. She scooped down to pick them up, sweeping her hair over her shoulder.

"Are you sure you're alright with me moving in?" she straightened up, her eyebrows creased.

"Of course. I'm the one who asked you in the first place," I smiled gently.

After we payed for the gifts (and Sam bought us each a Santa hat), she stopped me just underneath the entrance to the department store. "Look," she snickered, pointing up as she put her hat on. "Mistletoe."

I leaned down to kiss her on the lips, and Sam took advantage of the movement to put the other Santa hat on _my_ head. "Let's go, gramps," she said, swinging her hips as she turned around and walked out.

We had barely been walking for five minutes when a photographer appeared, camera at the ready. "Oh, my God," Sam said, her voice annoyed. "Leave me alone." She pulled her Santa hat down over her eyes, and consequently walked into a pole. I helped her up, glancing back at the photographer.

"Samantha! Miss Stark! Is it true you'll be at the Masquerade ball tomorrow? Do you know Masquerade?" he began to hound her with questions.

"Yes, and she'll kick your ass if you don't leave me alone," Sam snapped. I hurried her along, trying to ignore the man.

"Do you know her secret identity? Are you friends with the other Avengers? Do you know Captain America? Is he still in a relationship with Masquerade? Why haven't we seen the two of them together since May?"

"Because they're trying to avoid creeps like _you_."

"Sam," I said quietly, a warning tone in my voice.

"Did you know Justin Bieber wants to feature you in his next music video? Where did you grow up? Is it true you were a playboy bunny?"

"No! Now fuck off!" Sam's hands shook. "I had a very normal childhood, thank you very much!"

"Are you close with your father?"

"No comment," I whipped around, staring at the man angrily. "Please, leave us alone."

"Who are you? Are you her boyfriend? Does Stark know about you? Where did you two meet?"

"Up your ass and around the corner!" Sam exclaimed, her eyes wide. I slapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her into a nearby café. Thankfully, the paparazzi stayed outside.

"You need to calm down," I said harshly.

"Do you know how many times I've been hounded by paparazzi since Tony announced I was his daughter?!" Sam hissed. "Too many! Too many bloody -" I covered her mouth with my hand again.

"Calm down," I said between my teeth. Her hands stopped shaking and her breathing slowed; she took my hand off her mouth.

"Sorry, sorry," she ran a hand through her hair.

"You're supposed to ignore the paparazzi, Sam. Don't respond to them. Silence is the best weapon. I've used it my whole life, and it's worked."

"But they piss me off. That may be Cap's tactic, but I honestly believe Masquerade is different."

I looked at her silently for a few moments, and then sighed. "I know, honey. Let's just get home."

On the walk back to my Brooklyn apartment, my cell phone rang. I hated cell phones, but Tony insisted all the Avengers have one so we could keep in touch. Upon answering, I found it to be Tony himself calling. "Guess what," he said, excited. "I hired a butler."

"That's nice," I said, cradling the phone between my ear and my shoulder.

"Yeah. I decided that we needed some human help around Avengers Tower. JARVIS can't bring us drinks, right?"

"Uh-huh." Sam and I reached the apartment building, and I knocked on the door; the old lady that lived downstairs answered, all smiles when she saw me with Sam.

"So, this guy – this guy who I hired –" Tony was laughing "– guess why I hired him."

"Why?"

"Because his name is Jarvis!" We headed upstairs to my flat. "How perfect is that? I didn't even bother looking over his credentials. I just found out his name, and hired him."

"Are you sure that's safe?" I scrunched up my eyebrows.

"Nah, don't worry, Fury and Pepper are making sure he's safe," Tony said nonchantly. "Don't worry about it, Freedom Pants."

"So . . . why'd you tell me this?" I asked, unlocking the flat door. Once inside, Sam took the shopping bags from me and unloaded them on the coffee table.

Tony was quiet. "I don't know. You're the only person I thought might listen to me." There was a loud crash in the background, and then Tony's worried voice came back over the speaker. "Crap, gotta go. Thor and Namor are fighting. Again." He hung up.

Sam walked into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. "He called you because you're the closest thing he's got to a best friend," she hollered over at me. "Believe it or not."

I frowned. It was funny – if I actually thought about it, well, I guess Tony was my best friend too. Who would've thought? When I first met the eccentric billionaire, I thought we'd _never _get along. And now look where we were.

"We need to go grocery shopping," Sam groaned, opening the fridge and peering inside. "What do you want for dinner? The only stuff in here is old pizza. Really, Steve?" Sam slammed the fridge and walked over to me, her expression blank. "This living-together thing is going to take some getting used to. We have to think about each other now, when we're planning stuff."

I was wearing a blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and Sam ran her hands up my bare forearms. I knew she liked my sleeves like that; she liked my arm muscles, for some strange feminine reason. Her hands then moved to my chest, where she started playing with the buttons on my shirt. I stood still as a statue, practically terrified of what she might be doing. As she ran her fingers over the buttons, she leaned up to kiss me on the neck.

"You know, Stevie . . ." she trailed off, pressing her lips against my jaw softly and sending tingles down my spine. "Now that we're living together . . ."

Okay, don't get me wrong, I wanted Sam. There. I said it. But I wasn't _ready_ to want her yet. Does that make sense? In any case, I gently pushed her away.

Sam looked a little . . . well, crushed. "I thought we were ready to 'take things to the next level'," she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Not like that," I shook my head, taking a step back. "I'm not ready, Sam. Sorry."

"I can respect that, Stevie," she exhaled sharply, "but – I don't know. I'm sorry, but sometimes I really just – I just want –" she looked away, her cheeks pink.

"You feel that we're taking things too slowly," I said, my voice deep.

She shifted uncomfortably. "Not exactly. But sometimes I look at you, Steve, or you say something, and I don't just want you, I _need_ you. It's a very normal feeling, okay? I'm only human. I get tired of the little kisses we share when we say goodbye, because that's all we ever do. This morning –" she ran her hands over her face "– in Rockefeller Plaza, we barely kissed, and yet you were acting as if we had committed some sort of crime." I noticed with apprehension that her hands were starting to shake.

"I don't feel that it's appropriate to display that kind of emotion in public –"

"We weren't displaying _anything_, Steve! That's the problem!" she exploded. "I'm sorry, but I really want you, and you make it so goddamn _difficult_!" she clenched her hands. "I want to move forward!"

"I'm not _ready_ to move forward, Sam –" I started, but she cut me off.

"You're _never_ going to be able to move forward," she snapped. "You're still stuck in the past, Steven. If you weren't, I wouldn't come here to find you watching old war videos over and over again! You never think of the future," she stepped towards me.

"Sam, I -"

Her face was tuning a bright shade of red, as her hands shook more and more violently. "When I moved to Rome, it was because I was planning for the future. Hell, Tony _invents_ the future! But you never look past today! What are your life plans, Steve? You can't be a soldier forever. What are you planning to do in five years? Ten years? Surely, you won't be Captain America-ing in thirty years. So what are you planning to do with your life?!"

"You need to calm down," I said, my voice low.

"_NO_, I will NOT calm down!" she lashed out, hitting me on the arm. "You know what my plan is, Steve? I want to move to a small city, and start a family with kids and a husband, and I want a job in the history field. My plan does _not _include almost getting _killed_ on a daily basis, but I'm sticking around for YOU, Steve –"

"Samantha, this attitude has got to stop," I raised my voice, grabbing her arm so she wouldn't try to hit me again. "Look, I know you had a bad experience with Daken," I grinded my teeth together, "but that's no excuse. This . . . this _violence_ is not doing you any favours. You've become reckless and impulsive and if you don't get a hold of yourself I am seriously going to send you to therapy. This isn't you, and I'm trying to help you, but it's tiring me out. I'm sorry," I slowly released her. "You're right, I don't have a plan for the future, but that's because I'm trying to find a handle on my life in the present. It's painful enough, to know I recently lost everything. I'm trying to take it day-by-day and do my duty for justice. When I went into cryogenic state, the world was at war on the battlefields. When I woke up, the war had moved to the streets. I'm the man out of time. You are one of the few things that makes sense to me," I grabbed Sam's still-shaking hands, "_but you have become an entirely different person and I'm sick of it_. Remember when we first met; back when you thought of me as a brother? Where you were still immature, stuck-up and ridiculously loyal? _That's _the Sam I want to be dating."

She clenched and unclenched her jaw a few times, trying to find the words as she continued to stare me down. "I think we just had our first fight," Sam said slowly.

"You need to _promise_ me," I shook her slightly, "that you're going to get a better handle on your emotions. You need to stop freaking out whenever something bad happens. It's unhealthy," I emphasized with another shake. "I'm seriously worried about you."

Sam's eyes glistened, and I let her go so she could wipe at her face. "I'm sorry, Steve. You mean so much to me. I'm sorry I got so upset," her voice was tearful. "I – you're right. Maybe I should go on drugs, or something. But _you're right_. I'm not myself." She took a deep breath. "But – but back when we first met, I got the distinct feeling that you didn't like me," she chuckled softly.

"I was annoyed because Nick Fury wanted me to train you, when I believed there were more important jobs for me," I reached out to cradle her head in my hand; she leaned her cheek into my palm. "You were wearing that long-sleeved grey t-shirt that accented your eyes. And you had been locked in a room for six days, so you were sweaty and oily and dirty."

"Remember how Tony took me out in the Iron Man suit, and he dropped me from 30,000 feet in the air? And then after he caught me and brought me back onto the Helicarrier, you literally had to pry me off him."

"Your muscles were locked out of fear," I smiled as the memory came back; Sam reached up to place her hand over mine as she continued to lean into my hand like a cat.

"I went all fangirl on you when you helped me train," she scrunched up her nose, but she was smiling. "I think it creeped you out a little."

"That was way back when you could only control your wind power, and you didn't even know you had control over water."

"God, I was so young," she sighed. "Still a minor. Still in _high school_."

"I think it was so easy for me to talk to you – to get to know you – because you were so young. You know how nervous I get around women, but you were younger than me, so I was comfortable talking to you."

Sam snickered. "Remember when I called you Captain Six-Pack?"

"When I first met you," I said, "I marveled at how you acted as if you were on the same level as me and Tony, even though you were so much younger and so inexperienced. I couldn't figure out if it was arrogance or just courage." I took my hand away from her face, staring into her grey eyes intensely. "What happened to you, Sam? What happened to that sweet, immature, sarcastic teenage wasteland that you used to be?"

"I grew up," she shut her eyes, as if the memories were too painful. "I saw things that I can't forget and did things that I'm ashamed of. Daken broke me, too. I fear the day when I meet a super villain who is the Joker to my Batman, like in those comic books I read."

"Why?"

"Can you imagine how much mental damage they'll leave behind?" she opened her eyes. "That's my problem, Steve. I'm mentally weak. I don't have walls up to protect me, like Tony. I let everyone in, and they change me because they scar me."

"You'll get better, honey."

She sighed, wanting to change the subject. "You wanna just have leftover pizza for dinner?"

"Sure," I said forgivingly, walking into the kitchen to prepare our meals. It was then that the ground started to tremble slightly: I noticed when the chandelier started to swing, and pictures fell off walls.

"Sam!" I exclaimed, looking back at her. "Are you causing this?"

"T-this earthquake?" her voice trembled like the room. "N-no, I don't think so . . ."

It stopped as soon as it started. We exchanged a confused glance, Sam shaking her head. "I swear, that wasn't me."

"Huh," was all I said, and then went on acting like it hadn't even happened.

After dinner, we decided it might be best to retire early for the night, and Sam headed into the washroom. "Steve, uh – don't come in the bathroom. I'm showering," she blushed a deep red, running a hand through her hair. "So. Yeah." I smiled politely at her, as she scrambled into the bathroom and closed the door halfway; she stuck her head out, staring at me.

"Thanks for letting me stay over. Er, inviting me to live with you," she said softly.

"It's no problem, Sam. It can get lonely here sometimes," I said. "Falling asleep is hard. It's difficult for me to always be alone."

"I can imagine," she said; then ordered once more that I neglect to come in the washroom. I made myself a light snack while she showered, but was soon interrupted by a loud "_Shit_", and then a "Steve, get your ass over here!"

I rushed to the door of the bathroom, knocking worriedly as my forehead creased. "Is everything alright?"

"I forgot a towel," she groaned. "I'm sorry. It's going to take me a while to get used to staying here."

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling as I grabbed her towel and slipped it through the door without looking. It would take me a while to get used to it, too – not only was Sam the first person I'd ever shared a room – or a bed – with, she was the first woman I was ever living with. The first woman I'd ever loved, actually.

And I still hadn't worked up the courage to tell her.

I crawled into my queen bed, pulling the comforters up to my chin awkwardly. I hoped Sam wouldn't mind, but I slept in my boxers and grey ARMY t-shirt. I mean, I didn't _think_ she'd mind – she said people didn't really care about privacy anymore – but it was still uncomfortable for me. Who knew what she would sleep in? I couldn't even believe I was going to sleep in the same _bed_ with her in the first place.

I had almost fallen asleep by the time Sam came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. I had already seen her explosion of health and makeup products; they'd taken over my bathroom counter completely. She'd been in there for nearly half an hour tonight, shower not included, and as nervous as I was about sleeping with her, I had dozed off.

She turned off the light when she came into the room, and we were flooded by darkness. "Shh, just go back to sleep, Stevie," she whispered when I lifted my head. I thumped my head back down against the pillow as she got changed.

"Okay, just a heads up – I don't sleep in my bra and underwear or some skimpy nightgown like magazines might say," she whispered in my direction. "I sleep in an oversized t-shirt and baggy plaid flannel-and-cotton pajama pants. The kind you get at Wal-Mart. Understood?"

I made a gentle noise of agreement.

"Cool. By the way, I can't actually see in anything in this dark," she stumbled over to the bed, "and I think I may be wearing one of your t-shirts. Is that okay?"

"I don't care," I grumbled, and then Sam got underneath the covers and lay down beside me. She pressed her freezing-cold feet against my legs; I jerked away, startled as she giggled.

"Sorry. My feet get cold," Sam said, and then shifted back onto her side of the bed.

I gently reached over and found her hand, entwining our fingers together and laying them on the pillow between our heads. She sighed contentedly, and then drifted off, like I was doing.

In my dream, I counted sheep – except all the sheep were soldiers. They'd jump over the fence one-by-one, trying to get to the other side. It was a dream I had frequently, actually.

I could hear them and their chants; their broken songs.

_1, 2, 3, 4-_

It started with the girls. Always the girls. And the song: "The star-spangled man with a plan!"

_5, 6, 7, 8-_

Then it became tin soldiers by the fireplace. Nutcrackers. Plastic toys that I played with as a kid – soldiers, generals, tanks.

_9, 10, 11, 12-_

Eventually, they became real. Airplanes flew overhead. Bombs dropped.

_13, 14, 15, 16-_

The buildings around me were blown apart. Women and children screamed. Men were slaughtered in the streets.

_17, 18, 19, 20-_

More bombs. More buildings being blasted apart. Soldiers, too, this time – blown to bits before my eyes.

_21, 22, 23, 24-_

Bullets falling from their clips, and smoke. Smoke everywhere.

_25, 26, 27, 28-_

Motorcycles and Bucky, doing all the dirty jobs I never could. The Howling Commandoes. The Invaders – Namor.

_29, 30, 31, 32-_

The French Revolution. I was a big part of that . . .

_33, 34, 35, 36-_

Sirens wailing overhead as the bombs began to rain again.

_37, 38, 39, 40-_

And then came the worst images. Bodies lying in the mud. Huddled figures in the trenches, shaking in the rain with their eyes shut in prayer.

_41, 42, 43, 44-_

Tanks plowing through buildings and homes, unyielding.

_44, 46-_

Blood. Blood everywhere. Melting through uniforms; soaking away their other colors.

_47-_

The gunshot ringing through Brooklyn after _Project: Rebirth_; the broken glasses stained with blood.

_48-_

Bucky, falling off the train. A nightmare of emotions.

_49-_

Peggy. Always Peggy, her gloved hand slipping out of mine.

_50-_

_Ice._

I awoke in a cold sweat, chest tight as I fought to breathe. My fingers gripped the sheets, looking for something real to keep me grounded. I was home. The war was over. Everyone was fine. Just breathe, dammit, _breathe_-

My fingers found Sam who, to my surprise, was sitting on me. There was a panicked look on her face, and her eyes were filled with tears. I forced myself to sit up. It was hard – but why should it be hard? Something was wrong with Sam. I needed to take care of her. I couldn't, though; my eyes stung, and my hands shook as I ran them through my hair, tugging and pulling at it to remind myself that this, well, this was real. This wasn't a nightmare; not a ghost, lurking behind my eyelids.

I kept seeing flashes of my dream though, and it made it hard to concentrate on whatever Sam's dilemma was. Flashes of soldiers – blood and bombs. But amongst the ghosts and memories were newly discovered terrors - the other nightmare that visited me every so often. The one that reminded me how close I was to losing everything _again_, to losing the only things I had left, the only things I had to live for. The Avengers, all dead – Tony's arc reactor, now just a dim, flickering light; Clint and Natasha, both lying in pools of their own blood. Mjolnir separated from its master only by Valhalla; the Hulk, somehow finished off, a threat no more. Hank and Janet even made their way into those dreams, too. And Sam – Sam was there. She was always the hardest to take; her lifeless grey eyes were the hardest to look at. That nightmare was too common for my liking, as was the soldier one.

_The bed is real_, I told myself, _the bed, the ceiling, the floor, the sheets, the pillows, the shield propped up by the dresser, the windows overlooking Brooklyn, the curtains, the table, the lamp. Sam_. Sam was real. That was all real. Not the ghosts trying to drag me back to the trenches; the hot, smoky air.

And the hot tears on my cheeks were real. Sam hugged me, her body trembling slightly as my chest heaved with still-labored breathing. I wrapped my arms around her, crushing her to my chest; assuring that she wasn't just a phantom. My arms felt weak and cold sweat lingered on my brow, but Sam held on to me fiercely, saying something soothing that I couldn't decipher.

I reached up to wipe the tears from my face. This – this was the first time I had cried, at least in front of her. Sometimes my eyes had gotten watery – sometimes I had been on the verge of breaking down – but never once had I lost it. I was Sam's rock. I was supposed to be that one thing in her life that stayed strong and never broke. But now I was showing weakness, and the illusion was shattered, all because I couldn't keep my emotions under control –

"Stop. Stop," Sam's words finally reached my ears, as she reached up to pull my hands away from my face. "Stop it, Steve." She must've read my thoughts in my expression, because she said, "I don't care if you cry. It's not a sign of weakness; it's a sign that you've been strong for too long. You've seen me cry, Steve, and it's okay – I can handle a few of _your_ tears," the corner of her mouth went up in a smile, and she cupped my face in her hand gently. "You can cry in front of me, Stevie."

In response, I hugged her again, burying my face in her hair. My chest still shook as I tried to stop the tears, grateful that she was so understanding. God, I was so in love with her. She was one of the few things in this world that actually meant something to me. How could she not, when she was so lenient; when she accepted that I was only human, with human weaknesses?

"I'm sorry," I managed out, once I had calmed down; she leaned back and gently wiped the remaining tears off my face with her fingers. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," she chuckled. "You just scared me a bit, that's all. You were – you were thrashing about, and yelling. I couldn't even tell what you were saying, but I think it was some w-war command, and you kept screaming and kicking. I tried to wake you up, but you just kept . . ." she trailed off, looking down.

I glanced at the clock on the bedside table – 2:30 in the morning. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Sam," I said, "I didn't mean to wake you-"

"Are you okay?" she interrupted. "Steve, it must've been something big, if – if it made you cry . . ."

I studied her sincere expression closely. "I should probably be honest, now that we're, uh, living together. And I should've mentioned it before now – but I dream about the war. Every night. The nightmares are _always_ there to haunt me. It's not fair – that it was so long ago, but that for me, it was only yesterday. The memories are still fresh. And sometimes . . . I dream of the Avengers; of losing you and all the rest of them. You guys are the only thing I have left now."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," she frowned. "No wonder it's so hard for you to sleep alone. But you've got me now," she smiled. "I'm not going anywhere, and neither are the rest of the Avengers. Let's focus on the positive, shall we? You're alive. The war was won. It's time to start over." Her eyebrows creased. ". . . Every night?"

I looked down. "Yes. Sorry. I should've told you-"

"Hey, hey, no, don't worry about it," she took my face gently in her hands. "I'm here. I'll help you get better. We'll get rid of those nightmares."

I smiled, kissing her quickly on the lips and lying down with Sam still in my arms. She curled into my chest, distractedly drawing patterns through the fabric of my t-shirt.

"It's okay. You'll see."

Sam was real. She was real, and she was going to help me – she never told me I was being irrational or paranoid. Because some nights, she had her own nightmares. We were both broken, but at least we had each other now. There were some nights where we spent the entire time just holding each other, tears and all, trying to remember what was real and what we still had to live for. Even to this day, there are nights where one of us wakes up with a nightmare and the other has to help them through the pain. It's a side effect of the superhero business – all the fear-filled dreams.

The most helpful thing was just the simple fact of knowing that I wasn't alone. Not anymore.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey, everyone! Long chapter, heh heh. Sorry for the late updates, but the next two chapters have already been written and edited, so I should be able to get the schedule back on track! Oh, and if you're still wondering as to Sam's personality shift, don't worry. It's all going to be explained in two chapters :) Ahh, and what a perfect day to post _this_ chapter: November 11th. Let's take a moment to remember our brave soldiers - even Steve - of the past, the present, and the future. **

**Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers: you guys are the best, and you make this so much fun: _Chester-Grey, littlethingsbyonedirection, ClarinetRox88, Tbonechick2011, CeffylGwyn, erica . phoenix 16, LianaDare8, Shadow Realm Triforce, brandibuckeye, Kima Wolfwood, Silvertail of shoreclan, GoForTehGig, Lady Firewing_ and_ Awareness_! Thank you all so much :) I got an amazing response last chapter from all of you, and I can't thank you enough. **

**I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Not a lot of action has happened in this story so far, but don't worry, it's barely even started xD Thanks for reading – and please review, telling me what your thoughts are on this chapter! I love hearing from each and every one of you :)**

**READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	7. War and Parties

Sam Silverman's POV

_I know this is war, but the rest of us are trying to pretend it's a party._

– _Kristin Cashor, __Fire_

". . . And with that, I welcome you to the first Masquerade ball. Please enjoy the night – and remember to make a donation!"

I stepped off the stage amid thunderous applause, nearly tripping over my dress. _Was that Johnny Depp in the front row of the audience?_

Tonight was the night – _the ball_. Oh, god. I had been both fearing and looking forward to this for a long time now. It wasn't much – just a masquerade party – but the proceeds went to charity. And I had just made my first-ever public speech as Masquerade, welcoming everyone and giving them a brief history of the Avengers, along with trying to incite them to donate to charity and thanking them for coming.

There were so many people here, it was ridiculous. A-list celebrities filled the room, along with various politicians and world leaders and people who actually made a difference in the world. If Ghandi or Abraham Lincoln were alive, they would be here. It was _that_ kind of party. And it was _my_ party.

Janet Van Dyne was there to greet me when I stepped off the stage. She looked stunning in a gold-and-black number that she had designed a Venetian mask over her face. I wore my original Masquerade mask, of course (it had taken us a while to remove all the bloodstains from it), and a purple gown that Jan had designed as well. As Masquerade, I was the party hostess, and had the difficult job of both trying to look elegant and still look like a superhero.

"You were wonderful, dear!" Janet gushed, pulling me into a tight hug. "Fantastic! The audience loved you. I think I even saw the members of One Direction, unable to take their gorgeous British eyes off you. The speech was riveting."

"Oh, stop it," I snorted. "But – really? One Direction's here?"

"Yes. Why? Are you a fan?"

I frowned. "No."

Janet laughed. "Come on, dear. Turn that frown upside-down, and go mingle! The public wants to meet a superhero. Since, you know, you're technically the only one here."

I blushed. We had organized this party so that I really was the only superhero: everyone else was walking around in their alter egos, like Steve, who had to pretend to be, well, Steve. I was the only hero wearing a costume. Maybe that was part of the allure of the party; the reason everyone was mingling and socializing so much. Because they knew that the Avengers were here – they were just dressed as normal people. You never knew; the person who you accidentally walked into could secretly be the Hulk.

There were exceptions to the no-hero rule, of course, like Tony. He didn't need the Iron Man suit; everyone knew who he was. Same with Thor, although we had managed to get the god into a grey tuxedo so that he at least looked presentable.

And then there were others, who couldn't help it - like the Thing. We had invited the Fantastic Four, of course, and some superhero costumes you just couldn't hide.

I walked out onto the floor, where tables were set up around the edges of the room and there was a slightly raised stage on the south side. The masquerade – which Janet had organized – was being held at the Plaza Inn near Central Park; the walls were decorated gold and white, and everything was draped in light purple cloth: Masquerade's signature color. Guests mingled on the floor – for the time being, the entertainment was Lana Del Rey, a smooth old-Hollywood type singer who I was a huge fan of. As the night wore on, she'd be replaced by an orchestra that people could actually dance to; maybe they'd even play some Christmas music. It depended how the night wore on.

I entered the crowd, looking around. It was difficult to tell who was who, because it was a masquerade party – everyone wore masks. I bumped into Clint and Natasha by accident on my way to find someone to talk to; both of them looked incredibly awkward and out-of-place. I rolled my eyes and sent them over to the food table.

That was where I found The Thing – Ben Grimm – eating all the fruit. I sauntered over to him, frowning; embarrassed, he wiped his face on the tablecloth. Great.

"Uh, hello," he said, his voice very deep. "Nice to meet you, Masquerade. Great party."

"And great food, too," I raised my eyebrow. The Thing, who was famous for his catchphrase of "It's Clobberin' Time!" was one-fourth of the Fantastic Four. His entire body – well, his skin, at least – was made of some sort of orange rock.

A man slipped over to stand beside Ben, and I'll admit it, he was pretty hot. But I could tell that he _knew_ he was hot, which made him seem like a complete douchebag. As I discovered, I was right.

"Hey," he winked at me, pushing past Ben. "I'm Johnny Storm."

"The Human Torch," I nodded.

"Hell yes," he grinned crookedly. "And might I say, Masquerade, I think I've got the hots for you." He raised his hand, and tiny flames danced along the tips of his fingers. "What say you and I find ourselves a cozy closet once this party's over?"

I almost felt bad for Johnny Storm – because right then, Steve walked up behind me. It was also at that moment that I noticed a dark-haired, dark-eyed, but very pale man standing in the shadows of the room against the wall, watching.

"This kid bothering you?" Steve said in my ear, but it was loud enough for Johnny to hear.

"Back off, Blondie. I'm trying to talk to the lady," he said; behind him, Ben continued to stuff his face with food.

Steve looked down his nose at Johnny. It was uncanny, how similar they looked. "Well, you might want to try being a bit more respectful, before you get hurt." The man against the wall with the long, pale face kept staring – and it made me glad that Steve was standing so near. He creeped me out completely.

Johnny raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? I'm the Human Torch, buddy," he pushed Steve. "Last I checked, no one's going to hurt me for talking to a girl."

"Last I checked," Steve countered, "this girl was dating Captain America."

Ben Grimm began to laugh. I winked at Johnny, and nodded at Ben. "Nice meeting you boys. Ben – enjoy the food. And Johnny, seriously? The womanizer act isn't working."

Ben continued to laugh as Steve and I walked away.

"I could've handled that on my own," I murmured under my breath.

Steve frowned. "I'm sorry, Sam, I just didn't want to see him-"

"Who's that man over there?" I changed the subject abruptly, looking back at the dark-eyed man who was still staring at me. "He won't look away, and it's really starting to freak me out. Do we know him?" I instinctively moved closer to Steve.

He didn't even have to glance over to know who I was talking about. "That's Frank Castle. Don't worry about him, Sam. He won't hurt you."

". . . He's still staring!"

"Stop worrying, honey. Just don't think about it," said Steve, although I noticed he was leading me away from the food table. Whether it was because of Johnny Storm or Frank Castle, I didn't know.

"Is he dangerous? I'm serious, Steve, he's _really_ freaking me out, and I don't remember him being on the guest list-"

"He's highly dangerous, Sam. That's the Punisher."

My eyes widened. "The Punisher? _Here_? At the party?" I squeaked.

Steve changed the subject. "Sam, I can't hang around you when you're dressed as Masquerade. People are going to get suspicious – and besides, reporters are looking for Tony's daughter. He financed the party, so it's expected she'll show up. Go get changed, will you?"

". . . Yeah," I said absentmindedly, branching off from him to head to the closet I had stored my other dress in. I was going to be playing dress-up the entire night, flipping between two dresses and two personas, just so I could hide my identity. Janet had specifically designed two dresses that were easy to change into for me, and I had two Venetian masks to hide my face. Hopefully, this would work.

But for the time being, my mind was stuck on the Punisher – Frank Castle. God, it was terrifying to know he was here. I wouldn't call the Punisher a hero, exactly . . . but he wasn't a villain, either. He just believed in punishment rather than justice, and thus the name Punisher – he hunted down and brutally murdered criminals, rather than handing them over to law enforcement or even giving them a quick and painless ending. He only worked for himself, too, and only killed those he thought deserved –

I walked right into someone, and that really fricking annoyed me, because although I had been lost in thought, I had been watching where I was going. No – this person had literally teleported to right in front of me.

I looked at them, frowning. "You know, this is a masquerade ball, not a costume party," I said. He wore a full red spandex body suit and mask, with black accents here and there, and black sides; the large areas around his eyes were black, too, a bit like Spider-Man's costume. Strapped to his back were two huge swords, and multiple guns were attached to his waist.

". . . And all weapons were supposed to be confiscated at the door," my eyes widened.

"Name's Deadpool, Wade Wilson, or the Merc with a Mouth!" he chirped. "Great to finally meet you, Masqueradie. Wish I could've seen you in the comics, but, well, you're not in them. Too bad. I'm a huge fan."

". . . What?"

"Maybe you've heard of me. I got my powers from Weapon X – your buddy Logan Howlett, er, Wolverine, he was part of that. We put a lot of money and time and sharp pointy things into him, only to have him run away. Ungrateful bastard. It was so boring without him there."

"Sorry, but you're not making any sense," I blanched.

"I just wanted to meet you, Masquie, that's all," Deadpool said happily. "Now, can I have some money? For candy?"

"I'm not letting you buy candy."

"Money for . . . non-candy?"

"Who the hell _are_ you?" I screwed up my face in confusion.

"I'm the best mercenary in the Marvel universe, and the best one you'll ever meet in your entire life – which ends in chapter 24 of this story, actually," said Deadpool.

"Excuse me?"

"Oops! Spoiler alert!" his hands flew to where his mouth was hiding behind his mask. "I tend to break the fourth wall a lot," Deadpool mock-whispered.

"Um . . ."

"I'll be going now. Nice to meet you though, Masquie! Have a nice life – we should really team up sometime," he winked, and then suddenly, he was gone. The only explanation was teleportation – but this Deadpool guy's entire appearance left me so confused that I just tried to block it out of my brain.

I slipped out of the ballroom, into a side closet that Jan had helped me pick out earlier. In it was a simple, conservative black-and-white dress that went up to my neck – I was trying to get rid of that playboy bunny image. I pinned up my hair in a twist, and walked back into the ballroom. Janet pounced on me like a cat as soon as I was there, though, her eyes wide and worried.

"You forgot your mask, Sam," she scolded. "You're still wearing your Masquerade mask. Go grab that silver one we got you."

"Shit. Thanks," I squeezed her hand, then ran back to change.

Five minutes later, I was standing by Tony Stark's side, helping entertain guests. God, this night was such a whirlwind of confusion – change this, change that, don't forget this. As much as I loved pretending to be Tony's daughter (that was sarcasm), I needed some space. Especially after that weird Deadpool confrontation. I mentioned it to Tony, and he nodded, signalling I could go. As I walked towards the exit doors, I passed Thor, talking to the president about penguins. I winked at him as I passed by, shaking my head.

Although I was planning on going outside for just a moment to clear my head, I was stopped by a commotion at the door. "My name's supposed to be on that list," a young man with brown hair was saying. "Peter Parker. I'm a photographer for the Daily Bugle."

"Look, kid. That's great. But I'm only allowed to let in the people on the list – and you're not here," the security guard said, looking down at a sheet of paper. "It says the photographer for the Bugle is Stan Lee."

"Yeah, but he called in sick," the Parker kid pleaded.

"You got any identification?"

Peter Parker pulled out a Student ID card – he was still a high school student!

The guard laughed in his face.

"Please, let me in, Jonah J. Jameson is going to kill me if I don't get some pictures," he pleaded. "I'm the guy who takes the photos for Spider-Man, so he sent me to catch some of Masquerade-"

"Spider-Man?" I said under my breath, stepping closer and examining the boy more closely. Now that I thought about it . . . his voice was the same as the wall-crawler's. Same height and body build, too. He couldn't . . .

I pretended to walk past them, but then "accidentally" bumped into Peter Parker, causing him to drop his camera. He caught it mid-fall like a ninja, with reflexes way too amazing to be human.

"Samantha Silverman!" he exclaimed when he saw me, smiling.

"Have we met?" I raised an eyebrow, at the same time as the guard said "No, this is Samantha Stark."

Peter Parker realized his mistake, looking between me and the guard. I knew what he was thinking: he needed in to the party, and I was his ticket. He knew I was Masquerade – I had needed to reveal my identity to him when Spider-Man and I first met. Now, if this young reporter gave me a clue, a hint to work with, something to prove he was Spider-Man and not just some creep . . . I'd let him in, for sure.

The young kid paused for a moment, thinking, and then said, "Hey – I think we should be best friends."

I grinned hugely. Yep – this was Spider-Man. High-school-er Peter Parker was New York City's famous web-slinger. I had said that same "best friend" thing to him when we first ran into each other, back in May.

"You know, it's a Masquerade ball. You kind of need a mask," I said. "I think . . . red and blue would compliment you, no?"

He smiled, and I turned to the guard. "Let him in. He's with me." The guard frowned, shrugged, and then moved aside to let us back into the ballroom.

"Thanks," Peter said once we were out of the guard's earshot, "although I guess my cover's blown now, huh?"

"Pretty much," I said nonchalantly. "But – you're a _high school_ student? No wonder Tony won't let you join the Avengers – you're too goddamn young!"

"If I'm correct," Peter said, "you were still in high school when you started as Masquerade. Besides: with great power comes great responsibility."

"Whatever you say," I sighed. "You're a good kid, Spidey. I don't want to see you getting hurt. For the – what – ten minutes I've known you? I've actually grown to like you."

"Aw, shucks. You're making me blush," he said cheekily, snapping a few pictures.

". . . But I'll put in a word to Tony anyway. You do want to join the Avengers, right?"

"More than anything!" he said, pointing his camera at me. "Smile!"

I stuck my tongue out.

My eyes focused on something over his shoulder: the bar. There was a lone man sitting there, drinking a large glass of probably alcohol; everyone else avoided him like the plague. He wasn't dressed for the party, and his mutton chops were unshaved; his face depressed. I recognized that man.

"Hey, it's Wolverine," I blurted out. Peter Parker whipped around, his face excited.

"Really? Where?" He spotted Logan sitting by himself at the bar and rushed over. "Oh my god, this is so cool. Can I get your autograph?" I heard him say as I followed after.

"Fuck off," Logan Howlett – Wolverine – said gruffly.

"I'm a huge fan. Your work with the X-Men is amazing."

"I said, fuck off."

"Peter!" I snapped, grabbing his wrist and tugging him away; Logan spotted me and nodded.

"Samantha. Good to see you're doing fine."

"Your son's not here, is he?" I asked, a moment of sheer panic setting in.

Logan snorted. "No."

I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Thank God."

There was a long silence, before I decided that I needed to talk to him. I shooed Peter off in the general direction of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, before taking a seat beside Logan.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"Actually . . ." my mouth went dry, as I realized it was probably best to just leave Logan alone. Ah, hell, I was here now. "I wanted to know why you saved me, back in Rome. You didn't know me. You didn't like Tony or Clint. But you came and hauled my ass out of there anyway. You said it was because you owed Tony a favor . . . ?" Back in Rome, Tony and Clint had staged an intervention to get me away from Daken, Wolverine's son, but they had needed to call in Wolverine and get him to take care of his son.

He slammed his drink down on the counter. "Bullshit. I just said that to get you to stop asking me questions."

My eyebrows creased. "Then why'd you fly all the way out to Rome?"

Logan sighed. "Do I really have to answer this?"

"Sure."

The boy serving the drinks re-filled Logan's glass. "I felt responsible for my son. I needed to take care of him – set him back on the right path, I don't know. He was a threat that needed to be removed from the world. You just happened to be in the way." I thought of Daken – dark, dangerous, alluring, a rising villain. Wolverine had cut out Daken's claws when he found us in Rome.

"Right. Well, thank you," I said, getting up from my seat awkwardly. "You saved my life."

"There's another reason, Samantha. Sit back down," he ordered, and I complied right away. ". . . Now, don't tell Tony this."

"Don't worry."

"The thing was," Logan stared down at his drink, "I understood him. He came to me in a complete panic, knowing that it was my son who had caused all the problems. And I could relate to him because for me, there was this girl – Marie. She was like my daughter. It was the same sort of relationship you and Tony have." He looked over at me out of the corner of his eyes. "You may have heard of her as the X-Man Rogue." I nodded slowly. "Yeah. She was like my daughter. And so it wasn't hard for me to figure out why Tony felt so panicked. I could relate to him," Logan frowned. "And if Marie was in trouble, I'd do anything to save her. I just . . . put myself in Tony's place. It was a no-brainer, really."

"Wow," I said, legitimately surprised. "Thanks. I really mean it – thank you."

"Great. Now you fuck off, too."

"Oh-kay."

I left, a bit of a silly smile on my face as I tracked down Peter, standing by the stage. "Well, he was a ray of sunshine," Peter said, fiddling with his camera settings.

"Yeah, he doesn't go out of his way to make friends," I sighed. I didn't know Logan that well, but it was he who had saved me from Daken back in Rome, almost exactly a year ago. And beneath that terribly rough exterior, I did believe he really was a nice guy.

"Sammy!" Tony suddenly said, appearing out of nowhere and slinging an arm around me. "How's my favorite daughter doing?"

I faked a cough, trying to hide my laugh.

"Who's this?" Tony asked, peering at Peter. "A hero friend of yours?"

I frowned, lying through my teeth. "No . . . why?"

"Because I hear Daredevil's at this party," Tony whispered in my ear. Daredevil was a new superhero that had appeared in New York City recently; one that Tony was intent on finding, no matter the cost.

"Why don't you just let Daredevil be?" I sighed. "He's a hero. We need as many of them in this city as we can get. You're going to scare him off!"

A man suddenly bumped into us from behind; Tony turned to probably mouth off at him, but was stopped when he saw the blind cane and dark sunglasses. "I'm sorry," the man apologized, going to move away.

"Who're you?" Tony asked rudely.

"Matt Murdock," he said without a second's pause, as if he knew it was coming.

"And how the hell did you get in here?" But the blind man just shuffled off, ignoring Tony's question.

The billionaire sighed, turning back to me. "Have fun, kids!" he said, clearly already drunk as he slipped away.

Peter stared after him open-mouthed. "Oh God, please don't go asking for another autograph," I shook my head, but I was smiling.

"But – it's – Tony Stark!" he gasped.

". . . I get the feeling you're a bit of a nerd."

He nodded, snapping a picture of Tony's receding back.

"Well, Peter, I hope you don't mind, but I need to slip away," I said. "The party guests are probably wondering where Masquerade is. I'll see you later, okay?"

Five minutes later, I was back in the Masquerade dress and mask, walking around and dealing with celebrities who asked for my picture. It was weird to see star-struck stars.

I found Tony, Bruce and Hank, talking to an attractive middle-aged couple. They were introduced to me immediately: it was the other half of the fantastic four, Reed and Susan Richards (Mr. Fantastic and the Invisible Woman, respectively). Susan was Johnny Storm's sister, but thank God, she was nothing like him.

"It's an honor to meet you," I laughed, astonished that I was being introduced to so many people at this one party. "Can you believe it? We've got the four smartest minds in the world – right here, all together. Reed Richards, Bruce Banner, Hank Pym and Tony Stark," I whistled lowly.

Peter – who was trailing behind me – jumped up. "How about a picture?"

A bunch of photographers suddenly manifested right on cue.

While the men were posing for the cameras, I stood aside with Susan, a pretty blonde woman. "You still dating Captain America?" she asked, without any preamble.

I blushed, thinking of the photograph that made our relationship famous – a picture of Cap and Masquerade kissing, taken after the battle in Central Park. "Yes. Why?"

"Good luck. That's all," she shrugged, staring at her husband. "Take it from someone who's been there – dating a fellow superhero is really, really hard."

"Why's that?"

She sighed, looking at her feet. "Well, for one thing, there's the worry. You never know if he's going to come back alive; if either of you will. Your personal life is constantly being interrupted by hero business. Villains will use him against you, as either a hostage or a minion. And then – if you take it a step further – there's the matter of family," she sounded sad. "You can have kids, but you don't know what they'll turn out like. Will they have powers? Will they be controllable?" I thought of Daken. "They'll most likely be put in the superhero cross-fire, too. Children are too easy to manipulate or kidnap," she shook her head. "I guess I'm trying to warn you. There's a long road ahead," she finally turned to look at me. "I wish you the best of luck. You and Cap will need it."

I frowned. "But there are advantages, too, aren't there?" Susan stayed quiet. "At least you know they can take care of themselves. I never have to worry about Cap if he's walking through a nasty neighborhood. And they understand you – it would be too hard to try to date someone normal, who isn't on your level. Dating someone normal would also put them in jeopardy – jeopardy that a fellow hero's already in anyway. You'd be risking a normal person's life, and they'd have no way to defend themselves, whereas a hero at least has a chance." I took a deep breath "And as for family . . . well, I suppose that's a bit of a gamble, you're right."

I smiled at Susan. "I know your intentions are good, but you can't warn me away from Cap. I love him, and we've talked about it – we're willing to take the risks, because we believe in the end, it'll be worth it."

Susan smiled widely. "Right answer. But – does he know?"

"Know what?"

"That you love him."

"I . . . no," I admitted.

Susan took a sharp breath in through her nose as the men came back to join us. "You'd best tell him soon. You never know when everything could change."

Speaking of changing, I excused myself so I could change back to being Sam – I had the sudden urge to see Steve.

After I was back in my other black dress, it only took me a few minutes to locate Peter, who was basically acting as my sidekick for the night. Not long afterwards I found Steve, talking to a thin, curvy woman with curly blonde hair. She was gorgeous, I'll admit it, and it sparked a bit of jealousy in me – but she was wearing an official military uniform rather than an actual ball gown, and I knew Steve well enough to understand that he was talking to her simply because she was a fellow soldier from this day and age. So far, he hadn't had much contact with the army he used to be a part of.

"Samantha," Steve nodded, smiling when he saw me; he put an arm around my waist as Peter stood back, snapping pictures. "Let me introduce you to Major Carol Danvers," he looked at the blonde woman.

"Samantha Stark, I assume," she said politely. "I was invited here as a representative of the United States Air Force – I'm a pilot in the army."

"Right. Nice to meet you," I smiled, deciding right then and there that I rather liked this woman.

"Well, I'd best be off," she admitted apologetically. "I don't want to hold you two back from meeting other guests."

Once Carol was gone, I couldn't help it: I threw my arms around Steve's neck and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. His face turned red, since he was surprised at the sudden attention – but I was just so happy to see him. My quick chat with Susan had reminded me of all the reasons I loved him.

I watched Peter's face change as the gears in his head worked away. Steve was tall and muscular . . . and Samantha Silverman's apparent boyfriend, judging by the kiss. And Captain America was tall and muscular . . . and Masquerade's boyfriend . . .

Peter figured out that Steve was Cap, and didn't do a very good job of hiding it, although I trusted him with the secret. "The name's Peter Parker," he bounced up beside Steve, as I unattached myself from him. "It's so cool to . . . meet you . . ." Peter trailed off, staring up in awe. "You're like, a living legend . . ."

Steve smiled – he got this a lot. "Good evening, Mr. Parker." I nodded to him that Peter (obviously) knew his secret identity.

"Can I, like, have an autograph?"

"How about a picture?" I said. "Here, just -"

"What? Oh, yeah, sure!" Peter passed me his camera and posed beside Steve. His smile was so wide, I thought his face was going to break.

"Jesus, Steve, why do you have to be so perfect?" I murmured under my breath, as I snapped the photograph. Afterwards, I passed Peter his camera back, and dragged Steve off to wait with me while I got changed back into my Masquerade costume. His was rather reluctant to be dragged into the closet with me, but I assured him it was only because I wanted his company; he rolled his eyes and came into the walk-in closet anyway. Seriously, it was practically the size of Steve's bathroom – we could both fit easily.

As I was getting dressed, though, Steve lunged forward abruptly, scaring me as he seized my arm and help it up to the one lamp in the room. I tried to pull away, but he held me there; his eyes traced over the skin on my arm, and then he examined my other arm, and my neck.

"Sam . . . you have scratches everywhere. Scratches and bruises and cuts," he said, his voice soft. "My God, I didn't realize . . ."

"It's from my work as an Avenger," I shrugged, pulling back self-consciously. "Don't worry about it."

He looked upset. "No wonder your brother hates you as Masquerade. He doesn't like all -" his fingers traced over the scratches, "- this."

"I'm fine, Stevie. Please don't worry about it," I smiled softly; he frowned, but leaned down to kiss me gently anyway.

To my bewilderment, Steve leaned forward and deepened the kiss, reaching up to tangle his hands in my hair and keep me pressed against him. I knew he must've been thinking of our fight the day before – of how I had specifically been asking for this – but it was still shocking to see him actually _act _on it.

This was a different side of Steve – more raw, less polished and serious. It was weird, but in a way, it was a nice change. The more I hung around him, the more he surprised me. Sometimes, it seemed like Steve wasn't as innocent as people made him out to be.

My eyes flashed open in surprise when he moved one of his hands from the back of my head down to my chest; it brushed over my breast, but just lightly. Still, he backed off, looking unsure.

"Was that inappropriate?" he asked, and then instantly began to apologize.

I laughed, pressing our foreheads together and looking in his bright blue eyes. "Steve, we've been going out for a while now, and we've known each other for way longer. I think I can handle it if you're not just touching my back."

He smiled nervously. "I'm sorry. I – I just, sometimes I don't know. I'm stuck between three things: the good old-fashioned gentleman I am and was brought up to be – like, what was acceptable back in my day; the pressures of today and what you tell me is acceptable now; and . . . what I feel. Because no matter what is or isn't appropriate . . . I'm still a man. I still have emotions that I can't control."

I smiled, laughing a bit. "Stevie, you know I'll tell you if something's wrong or if I feel we're going too far. Don't worry about what's proper – just do what you're comfortable with. What you _want_ to be doing."

"How did I end up with such an understanding woman?" he said against my lips, and I smiled.

"Same way I ended up with such a gentleman."

He kissed me again, and I marvelled at how things were changing between us: how Steve -

The lamp caught on fire.

The fucking lamp in the fucking room caught on fucking fire.

I screamed from the shock, and Steve jumped out into the hall to grab the fire extinguisher, putting the lamp fire out. It killed the mood, for certain, but it was probably time for us to return to the party anyway . . .

I noticed Steve glaring at me. "What?"

"Why'd you set the lamp on fire?" he asked, glancing over at the charred remains.

". . . I didn't," I furrowed my brow.

"Sam, lamps don't just spontaneously combust – especially not when there's an elemental controller in the room," he pointed at it.

I held up my hands in surrender. "Steve, I swear to god, I- _ahhh_!"

The Masquerade dress, which was still on a hanger, caught on fire as well. Steve had put it out within moments, but it was ruined. I swore colorfully – now I was stuck as Samantha Stark for the rest of the night. Shit shit shit shit shit. This was bad.

Steve glared at me again, and said in a warning tone, "Sam . . ."

"I didn't light the dress on fire," I tried to defend myself.

"Now how're you going to be Masquerade?" he sighed. "That was a stupid thing to do. Why-"

"Steven Grant Rogers!" I said, curling my hands into fists to try and keep them from trembling – I could feel an anger spell coming on, and tried to remind myself of what he said in our fight - "Listen to me! I swear to god, I did not light the lamp and the dress on fire. End of story."

"Well, it doesn't just-" he snapped, but then abruptly stopped. "Is this like that earthquake yesterday?"

I nodded. "It wasn't me. I don't know about you, but I was actually _enjoying_ our little session, and I wouldn't have wanted to stop it-"

"Okay, okay, Sam, I believe you," he said hastily, but I could see the gears turning in his head. I didn't bother to ask as we stepped out and entered the ballroom again; after a quick, covert kiss we went our separate ways so we could keep up appearances.

I spotted Peter on the other side of the room, and I headed towards him determinedly –

But was completely knocked off-course when the wall of the ballroom exploded. Now, that definitely _wasn't _me.

It looked like we had a party crasher.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello, dear readers :) hope you enjoyed this chapter! I kind of went crazy with Marvel hero cameos - that's basically all that happened :P and I suppose if you don't read the comics, you'd be a bit lost (I originally had appearances from the Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Doctor Strange, Emma Frost, Jean Grey, Sam Wilson and Luke Cage in here, too O_o). But before you freak out at me - I cut it down so that every single hero here has had their own movie. There's a Fantastic Four film, a Wolverine film, a Punisher film . . . even Daredevil's been in his own movie. **

**Oh, yeah. Speaking of him, that blind man (Matt Murdock) that bumped into Tony? That's Daredevil. **

**Hopefully, you'll be able to recognize most of the characters, and if not - they were just cameos. For example Deadpool, who only appeared in Wolverine: Origins for a short time, won't be returning. I just can't handle not being able to put so many characters in this story :S They're all so amazing!**

**Ahem. Point is, everything was just a cameo except Peter Parker - and Carol Danvers. She'll be back. Keep her name in mind ;) If you know who she is, drop me a line. **

**Thanks for the reviews last time, guys, although I was missing out on a lot of you :( thank you to everyone who did review, though: _LianaDare8, littlethingsbyonedirection, brandibuckeye, Lady Firewing, erica . phoenix 16, CeffylGwyn, Shadown Realm Triforce_ and_ ClarinetRox88_!**

**Thanks again for reading, and please leave a review, telling me what you think :) I'd really, really appreciate it. And in the next chapter, we get to find out why Sam's acting so wonky!**

**READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	8. Truly Horrible

The Hulk's POV

_Some people never go crazy – what truly horrible lives they must live._

_- Charles Bukowski_

When person blow up Plaza wall in green explosion, it make Hulk angry. Why someone else doing the smashing?

Friend Tony Stark grab microphone from pretty songstress on stage. "Everyone, please stay calm," he say to screaming famous airheads in room. "Calm down. Head for the exits in a calm, orderly manner-"

No one listen to Tony. Maybe people listen to Hulk.

Hulk bound to stage, but more people scream. Hulk only trying to help! Friend Tony shake head at Hulk. "Sorry, big guy, but I really think you should high-tail it out of here."

"HULK WANT TO HELP!"

"Hulk no help," Tony nod slowly.

"HULK SMASH!"

"Hulk no smash," Tony nod slowly.

"GIVE HULK MICROPHONE."

"No give Hulk microphone," Tony nod slowly.

Hulk take microphone from Friend Tony anyway.

"EVERYONE BE QUIET!" Hulk yell.

Everyone quiet, and stop moving. Hulk good at helping.

Suddenly, another green explosion destroy more windows. Hulk see President being escorted outside by Friend Steve Rogers while people scream again. Blonde lady appear floating in window with no glass. Too far away for Hulk to see, but she wear green and black and her hands glow green. Suddenly, lady glow brighter. Hulk can't see her. No one can see her. Everyone covers eyes and Hulk drop microphone.

"Where is Tony Stark's daughter?" lady's voice ring out over crowd, clear like crystal and ringing like bells. Beautiful voice.

"I'm here, you bitch! Look, you didn't need to crash this party, if you wanted an invite you could've just-"

Down in crowd Hulk spot Sam Silverman, yelling up at green witch lady. Beside her a very very strong man, but not as strong as Hulk, name Sam Wilson. He try to stop and protect Sam, but it not work. Green witch fire something down at them, and ground explode in audience, right where Sam standing.

Hulk roar, angry. Green blonde lady hurt friend! But smoke clear, and Sam just fine. Sam look angry. The earth start to rumble.

People scream "Earthquake!" and people scream that it witch lady's fault, but Hulk know better. Hulk know earthquake Sam's power. But Sam look frightened and she clutch to Wilson in terror.

Witch lady laugh and fly down beside Sam. Earthquake stop, and so Hulk take one jump and bound over to Sam, who still look scared. Use your powers, silly girl!

Green lady pick up Sam around waist and start to fly off, but Hulk grab her. She snarl and shoot green spell at Hulk, and Hulk lose grip. Start to shrink smaller, and smaller, and skin turn back normal color –

Bruce Banner's POV

- And the Hulk became me, Bruce Banner.

I'll admit it, when the wall first exploded, I freaked out and "hulked" without even a moment's thought. But somehow this witch – who was obviously the one attacking the party – had put a spell on me, and I was back to being Bruce Banner. A very uncomfortable Bruce Banner – I had no clothes.

Sam Wilson, the muscular black man who had tried to protect poor little Sam, whipped off his pants and passed them to me. He now stood in his boxers, but at least I wasn't buck-naked anymore. Together, we looked up to see Sam scratching at the intruder's eyes, as the green villain struggled to drag her out the window.

Beside me, Mr. Wilson frowned. "Where the hell is Masquerade? It's her damn party, you think that kid would be hopping about, trying to stop this-"

And right on cue, a costumed superhero with slightly-curled blonde hair appeared – but it sure as hell wasn't Masquerade. For one thing, this woman wore a different outfit. She had on black thigh-high boots, black gloves, and a black mask; her black sleeveless leotard went up to her neck, and all this black was accented by a gold lightning bolt on the leotard and a red sash tied around her hips.

For the other thing, this woman had completely different powers than Sam – she could actually _fly. _And she didn't have wings or even a jetpack.

"And who the hell are _you _supposed to be?!" both the new blonde woman and Sam's kidnapper exclaimed at the same time.

"I am the Enchantress," the green witch smiled, and it was a nasty smile. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Midgardian."

"Midgardian?" the flying woman raised an eyebrow. "Are you one of Thor's cousins or something?"

"Did Masquerade change costumes?" Mr. Wilson asked as he stared at the three women arguing back and forth; Sam tried to bite the Enchantress, desperate on escaping.

"No . . ." I began to pull him away and towards the doors like the rest of the crowd, but I was unable to keep my eyes off the blonde trio. Sam turned to water, but her eyes widened in shock as if she wasn't trying to – she panicked, squirming out of the Enchantress's grasp as her entire right arm, up to the shoulder, turned to liquid.

The new heroine blasted the Enchantress with some sort of energy coming out of her hands, like Janet's wasp sting or Tony's repulsor beams. Enchantress backed off immediately, effortlessly blocking the energy blasts but completely letting go of Sam nonetheless. The blonde woman swooped down to catch her and place her gently on the ground, narrowly avoiding having her fall on Tom Hanks.

"You crashed the wrong party, Enchantress," the blonde said, flying up and blasting Enchantress again. "Go pick on someone from your own planet."

"Gladly," the Enchantress winked – and then she flew off, just like that. Blondie leapt off after her, giving high-speed chase that was quickly lost from my eyesight among the stars.

Realizing the threat was suddenly gone, I turned tail and instead rushed towards Sam, rather than the door. She was fine, if a bit angry. It was her emotional problems acting up: the ones she had gotten from Daken. Steve, who arrived beside her at the same time as me, tried desperately to calm her down. Her hands shook and she could barely look at Steve.

"Sammy, my God, are you alright?" Tony appeared. "Holy shit," he exclaimed when he saw her shaking.

"Sam, look. Look at me," I got on my knees in front of her. "I know what it's like to be angry, okay? I'm the Hulk. Take a deep breath, Sam. Sam? Hello?" she turned to glare at me. "Deep breath, okay? With me. Then hold it in for ten counts." She did as I directed. "Now breathe out until you have no breath left, and then breathe more. More. Got it? Okay. Okay, good." Steve looked over at me thankfully as the red color in her face started to disappear.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Sam said a bit breathlessly. "I'm okay now. Really."

"She is," a deep voice said behind us, and we all turned to see a bald man in a wheelchair. "Professor Xavier of the X-Men," he introduced himself, holding out a hand to shake. I did so; his grip was firm, and reassuring. "I'm sorry the night ended like this."

"Did you know that lady? Sorry, _those _ladies?" I asked, pointing up in the general direction that they had disappeared in.

Xavier shook his head. "The Enchantress is from Asgard, I can tell you that much – and she's a sorceress of some sort. But she had walls up around her mind, and I couldn't get in to read her thoughts," he frowned. "The other woman . . . well. She was here to help you, that's for sure," he smiled cryptically. "She's trustworthy, I can tell you that much, and I promise you'll be hearing from her sometime soon."

"Does she even have a name?" Tony scrunched up his nose.

"That's for you to decide," Xavier winked. "Although I must admit, the media already believes that she's Masquerade, and that you simply decided to switch costumes, my dear," he said to Sam.

"And powers?" she snorted.

"Well, it makes a bit of sense, does it not? This is Masquerade's party, and people want to know why Masquerade didn't show up to stop Tony Stark's daughter from being kidnapped."

"Is that what happened?" I ask. "I could barely tell – there was so much confusion . . ."

"Yes, well, Doctor Banner, I'm sure you'll figure it out before the dawn," Xavier smiled.

"Wait, how the hell did you know I was Masquerade?" Sam exclaimed.

Xavier tapped his finger to his bald head. "I can read minds, my dear. It's my mutation. Now, I must be off. I need to make sure Emma Frost and Jean Grey aren't fighting again." With that, the old man turned and wheeled away. "Oh, and Samantha, if you're ever looking to get better control on those anger issues, don't be afraid to come to me for counselling," he called over his shoulder. "And – wait. One more thing," he turned back to look at Steve, who had his arms wrapped around Sam and was holding her protectively. "Believe me, Steven: the mask is supposed to hide your face. Don't let it hide your heart." He rolled away again.

Steve's face blushed a deep red, and he hid it from Sam's confused gaze. I wasn't blind, though: I knew what Xavier was on to. Steve loved Sam, he just hadn't told her yet.

"Nice guy," Tony nodded, not the least bit sarcastic.

* * *

The next morning at Avengers Tower, everyone was up and bustling around. We had to deal with repercussions from the night before: destroying the Plaza's ballroom, leaving a few celebrities injured, jeopardizing the safety of countless people, the new villain. So far, the only intel we had on her was from Thor, and even that was hardly anything: all we got was a confirmation that she was Asgardian.

"But it makes sense now, doesn't it?" Namor the Sub-Mariner asked, sticking his nose in everyone's business that morning (Tony thought he might have been a bit put-off, because he wasn't invited to the party). "I noticed a disturbance in Earth's atmostphere. Thor said Loki's been sprung from jail. It must have been that Enchantress lady. Then she came down here to . . . kidnap Stark's daughter," he looked slightly confused.

"We have to figure out how she transformed me from being the Hulk back to being Banner," I said, a bit ashamed about what had happened with me last night.

"Can you still turn into the Hulk?" asked Hank. We were in an Avengers meeting, consisting of all the Avengers (and Namor). We sat around a table in the conference room of Avengers Tower, going over video clips and news reports.

"Yes. I already tried, last night after the incident," I blushed. "Scared a few birds in the park."

"Did you scare the quacks?!" Thor exclaimed, shocked. I shook my head in exasperation, still not able to understand Thor's obsession with ducks.

"Right, so there's that, and there's Ms. Marvel," Janet cut in. "And why did the Enchantress come after Sam?"

"Wait," Tony frowned, banging his hand down on the table. "_Ms. Marvel_?"

Janet nodded innocently. "Yeah, the flying lady with the red sash."

"She has a name?"

"Well, actually," Janet smiled proudly, "_I _gave her the name. I think Ms. Marvel sounds . . . _dramatic_."

About five people rolled their eyes.

"In any case," Clint sipped on some black tea, "the newspapers think that 'Ms. Marvel' is Masquerade. Like, as if Masquerade swapped powers and costumes randomly."

"She's got the same hairstyle as me," Sam shrugged. "They needed an explanation, as Xavier said, and that's what they came up with."

"Oh jeez, Xavier," Natasha rubbed her eyes. "Do you know how many superheroes and X-Men I saw there? The Punisher. Daredevil. The Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver. Luke Cage. Sam Wilson. Xavier. Beast. Jean Grey and Emma Frost. Wolverine. If we're going to have another party, we need to work on security – I'm pretty damn sure half of them weren't even _invited_."

"Can I just say," Janet stuck her hand up in the air like a schoolchild, "that it would be unfair to blame the attack on us heroes? Sure, we should be protecting people, but we were trying to keep our identities secret - and it takes a while to change into costume, right? Nevertheless, if Ms. Marvel hadn't shown up so quickly, I'm pretty sure every super there would've been crawling over one another to get to the party crasher."

"Spider-Man was there too," Sam cut in. "Right, Tony, that's the other thing we need to talk about. I really do think Spider-Man should be included on the team. He's skilled, he's got powers, he's in New York, and he needs a team to back him up."

"Was that the geeky kid you were talking to?" Tony asked, his voice overly-sweet.

"Yes."

"Yeah, no," Tony crossed his arms. "He's too young, and the rooster's full."

"I was that young when I first joined," she pouted.

"You were _forced _to join," Steve pointed out.

"Spider-Man needs protection, then."

Tony shook his finger. "You said he's skilled, Sam, but I disagree. It takes him half an hour and two destroyed city blocks to take down a villain, while it might only take Cap or me two minutes with no damage."

"He's inexperienced, and so he needs our help!" she exclaimed.

"He is a mere mortal," Namor cut in. "Nothing important."

"From what I have heard, the Man of Spiders is _more_ than a mere mortal," Thor backed up Sam.

"Hey, so long as we're on the topic of people no one cares about, what about James 'Bucky' Barnes?" Natasha interrupted.

"_I _care about Bucky," Steve said, at the same time as Sam said, "_I _care about Spider-Man."

"James is still MIA, and I want Avengers clearance to go look for him," Natasha nodded convincingly.

"He needs time, Tasha, he'll come to us when he's ready," Steve snapped.

A gust of wind swept through the room, and all the papers and flyers in front of us went spinning into the air; they settled down on the floor and in random places on the table, out of order now.

"Thanks, Sam," Tony sighed angrily. "Now everything's all fucked up."

"I didn't do it!" Sam's voice went exceptionally high.

"Then where the hell did the gust of wind come from?!"

". . . A window?"

"There are no windows in this room!"

"I don't know!" Sam's hands began to shake. "I swear I didn't blow all these goddamn papers everywhere."

As if her words had triggered something, every paper caught on fire. Sam screamed and leapt up from her chair, hands in the air. The fire alarm went off, as did the room's sprinklers; Tony's system was effective enough to put out every fire immediately, but now we were all drenched to the bone.

"I'm not doing it!" Sam screamed at Tony.

"Then what the hell is going on?!" he bellowed, flinging open the door to the conference room and stepping out into the hall, shouting for JARVIS to turn the sprinklers off. The new _human_ butler Jarvis came running, too, with multiple towels already in his hands. He gave them out to each of us, wrapping a towel around everyone's shoulders.

Sam was pale, and she shook like a leaf in the wind. "Maybe the Enchantress is here, playing games with us," she said weakly.

"Sammy," Tony had a warning tone in his voice. "Look, just admit you did it and I'll try not to be _too_ pissed off."

"No, wait," Steve stepped forward, his eyebrows creased. "I think there's something else going on here." Everyone turned to look at him expectantly, even Jarvis.

"The other day, in our apartment," he started, "there was an earthquake. It was definitely a Sam earthquake, because she has a special energy signature and it was only the apartment building. Then, last night," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "we were, uh, in the closet, and the lamp and Masquerade's dress caught on fire."

I snapped my fingers. "Last night, too, there was another earthquake."

"It wasn't mine," Sam hastily exclaimed.

"And you turned to water when the Enchantress got you, " I added.

Sam's eyes widened. "Okay, that, obviously it was me who did that. But . . . I didn't do it on purpose," her voice went soft.

I looked over at Hank, who nodded at me, obviously thinking the same thing. "Samantha, I need a blood test," I cut straight to the chase.

"Why?" she took a step back, clutching her towel more tightly around her.

"I need to check your blood. We took samples of all the Avengers when the team was first formed, and I'll need to look at it again."

"Why?" she asked again.

"Because something strange is going on with you, that's why," Tony pointed out. "Hank, Bruce, and Sam, come to the lab with me. Meeting adjourned," he nodded at the others. Janet gave Sam a quick hug and a sympathetic look, and then flounced off with the others. Steve stayed by Sam's side, but Tony didn't argue.

Hank led the way to the lab in Avengers Tower, holding open the door for us all to walk through. Sam sat down heavily in a chair, pouting; Tony got to work right away, stabbing a needle into her arm without asking.

Bad idea. Sam shrieked and jumped backwards, into a lab table with three computers and a collection of test tubes; they all fell to the floor in a crash, although Steve's reflexes were quick enough to catch a few of the test tubes. She ripped the needle out of her arm and threw it on the floor, shattering it, as all the blood drained out of her face. Sam started to breathe rapidly, her chest raising and falling quickly as her hands shook again.

"Anthony Stark!" she yelled, the scar on her forehead turning white. "I know some people were dropped on their heads as a baby but _clearly_ you were thrown against a wall!" shouted Sam, grabbing a nearby computer monitor and throwing it at Tony's head. He ducked, and it smashed against the wall as Steve tried to subdue his girlfriend. This was one of Sam's anger spells – the ones that had only started up since she met Daken. The ones that were dangerous to her health and scared those around her.

"Samantha, deep breath, hold it for ten, then let it out until there's no breath, and keep pushing the air out even after that. Like Bruce told you," Steve said soothingly, but she lashed out at him and smacked him on the chest.

"Let me _go_, Steve," she growled, fighting against him.

"No, Sam, you listen to me," his voice stayed smooth. "Calm down, you're not-"

I stepped in, diverting her attention. "With me, Sam. Deep breath." She stared at me, but didn't do as I said; her breathing was still labored.

"Okay. Okay, just sit down," Hank instructed, and at least she did that. "Sam, I know you're mad, but I need to take a blood test. I'm going to put this needle," he held up a new one, "in a vein in your arm, and I'm going to take some blood. Then I'll take the needle out and test the blood. We're not putting anything in you, okay? I promise. Look, the needle's empty. I just need you to hold still and calm down," he slowly approached her, like a cat approaching its prey. "Don't look at the needle, all right? Here, look at Steve. Hold his hand. You can squeeze as hard as you need, but just concentrate on Steve." Slowly, Sam nodded, her breath slowing down as she grabbed Steve's hand, looking at him fearfully. Yes, Sam was terrified of the needle.

Hank took the blood sample quickly, staying alert just in case she freaked out again. Once done he passed me the needle, and I brought it back behind some computers so I could analyze it.

"I'm sorry I flipped shit, Tony," Sam's voice was sad. "You didn't – you didn't warn me about the needle."

"Sorry," Tony said sheepishly.

"It's just," she took a shuddering breath, "I'm not scared of them so much as I just really don't like them. First, Dad injected me with this elemental powers stuff, and then in April Daken stabbed me with that drug HEAT. And, you know, the drug basically makes you live through your worst fears. I psychologically lost my powers for a while after that, too."

"I understand, Sammy," Tony's voice was apologetic. "And Hank, thank you. You calmed her down."

"Thanks," Sam agreed.

"Anytime," he patted her hand gently. "Just looking out for my fellow Avengers." Steve wrapped an arm around Sam's waist, nodding appreciatively.

"Oh-kay," I said slowly, looking at my computer screen. I was using microscopic technology to analyze the blood, and on the computer I pulled it up to compare it with Sam's original blood sample. "I think we may have a problem here."

The two scientists, the soldier and the young historian rushed over to crowd around me. "Here's the original blood," I pointed to the picture on the right of the screen, "and on the left is today's."

"Why does it look like the cells are coming apart?" Steve asked.

"I can digitally separate the normal blood from the formula in her system," I hacked away at the keyboard, "so that," the screen changed, "here. The green stuff is the formula and the black is the regular blood." Sam's father had injected her with a super-soldier serum of his own, with an elemental twist added to it.

"The floating green bits are coming off my blood cells," Sam remarked, staring intently at the screen.

"Right. And see here, in the original picture," Hank pointed at the screen, "the green and black is all merged together."

"Your problem, Sam," Tony clicked a few keys on my keyboard, "is that the serum is un-attaching itself from your body. It's unstable. But it's already been binded to bits of your normal cells," he pointed at some of the floating green-and-black chunks, "so it's taking that with them. And not only that, but you also have random, unnatural formula floating around in your bloodstream. Who knows what it'll do - mutate you, kill you, clog your veins and arteries, modify to something entirely different . . ."

"Well, let's not scare her," Hank's forehead creased. ". . . Although Tony's right."

"Holy shit," Sam ran a hand through her hair, standing back. "I'm losing my powers? I'm becoming unstable?" Her voice cracked.

"Well, yes. Basically," I frowned. "Hank and Tony are, unfortunately, correct. We have no idea if this could kill you, but considering the fact that the formula is breaking off bits of your cells, it's highly likely."

"Joy," Sam said sarcastically, but I could tell it was a mask to cover up her fear.

"That's why you're losing control over your powers . . . We need to work on a formula that will permanently bond the serum to her blood, one that will stabilize her cell structure." I turned to Tony and Hank, both of whom nodded enthusiastically. Steve took Sam in his arms, letting her hide her face in his chest.

"Will you be able to work something out?" Steve asked, worried.

"Well, sure, but the question is whether or not we'll be able to find it _in time_," Tony nodded. "We don't know how long it'll take before her instability reaches peak and, you know, does something potentially fatal."

"This sucks," Sam groaned.

I exchanged a glance with Hank. ". . . We're going to need to get our hands on a copy of the original formula."

"Can't you just take it out of my system?"

"Doesn't work that way," Hank shook his head. "They tried that with Steve, to replicate the super-soldier serum, and it got them nowhere."

"But we have . . . another option," I said slowly, fully aware I wasn't supposed to be telling Sam this. "Hank and your dad used to work together, Samantha – and recently they've joined up again to collaborate on a few more projects."

"I'm hoping that, well, maybe we can work with him to stabilize you," Hank said softly.

Sam's eyes were wide as saucers as everyone stared at her timidly, afraid she was going to freak out. Everyone was on edge as we waited for her reaction. We didn't get one, though, as her head and her left shoulder both turned into water.

Steve jumped back, startled, and it was another moment before she came back to us, this time with a panicked look on her face. "I didn't do that on purpose," she said, her eyes watering. "Just . . . do whatever it takes. So long as _I _don't have to see my dad."

"Can do," I nodded. "And Sam? Be careful, all right? We don't know what some of the effects of this could be. Losing control of your powers and all."

"Thanks, Bruce," she smiled.

"But . . . I'd also like a brain scan."

"Oh, jeez. What else?" she said exasperatly.

"Two reasons. The first has to do with this recent instability, obviously," I said. "You can control the elements by means of a psionic interaction with the substances on a molecular level, Samantha, and obviously the centre of control is your brain. For example, you can spontaneously ignite objects by controlling oxygen molecules, and I bet if you tried you could douse any oxygen-based flame by depriving it of oxygen."

Tony shook a finger at me. "Hey, I've never thought about it before, but you're probably right. Sam can control water through manipulation of surface tension, I bet, and by joining hydrogen and oxygen molecules."

"Correct," I nodded. "She can summon them from a volume of atmosphere, just like she can create atmospheric disturbances – what you call 'wind' – by controlling oxygen and oxygen-containing molecules."

"And let me guess," Hank cut in, "Sam can control the various substances like iron, granite, shale and limestone that make up common bedrock. That's how she can create seismic tremors; by causing a sudden shifting of the earth."

"Uhh . . ." Sam's mouth hung open as she stared at us with wide eyes. "Yeah, see, I barely understood a word of that. There's a reason I studied history, and not science."

"Nevertheless, we'll need to study how this instability is affecting your 'control centre'. It might shed some light on the problem," I tried to nod reassuringly.

"And the second reason?" asked Steve, a bit apprehensively.

". . . I'm starting to think that maybe the personality shift and anger problems are because of the effects of the serum on her mind."

"So I'm _not _going insane?" Sam asked, actually smiling. "The formula's just fucking with me? It's _not _my fault I've changed?"

"Well," I frowned, "I'm sure Daken and your experiences within the past two years have something to do with it, yes, but depending on what we find in the brain scan . . ."

"Whoa, sign me up," she said, hopping around the room, excited now. "See, Stevie? I'm _not _completely crazy!"

"Uh . . ." Steve looked a bit confused.

"Okay, okay, party's over," Tony frowned. "Let's get this brain scanner up and running, Bruce." He turned to Sam, winking. "We'll find you a cure, Sammy. I'm not putting my only daughter in a mental asylum – we don't need those paparazzi to get a hold of _real _scandals."

* * *

**Author's Note: Whoa, you guys. Absolutely stellar feedback on the last chapter - best I've ever had. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you all so much. Honestly, everything you guys said was so inspirational. That was the most amazing feedback I've ever gotten, and more than I could ever ask for. Thank you all so much. **

**There were lots of questions, so I'm planning on responding to them in a PM tomorrow. Just hang in there, guys ;) As for this chapter, leave me a note if you know who Ms. Marvel is. Also, Sam Wilson was briefly mentioned. Although a lot of you may not know who he is, he's the superhero The Falcon - and he's going to be in the next Captain America movie, along with Bucky, Natasha and Cap! That's why I thought it'd be cute to put him in for a cameo ;)**

**Next chapter's a bit fluffy, but it's been written and edited already. Some interesting stuff's coming up. In the meantime, tell me what you thought of this chapter! I'd love to hear from you all again, like last time. I'll never be able to thank you enough for it, but special thanks to the reviewers nonetheless: _CeffylGwyn, Of-thieves-and-liars, Lady Firewing, clarinetgirl628, everythingevans, erica . phoenix 16, Awareness, Shadow Realm Triforce, littlethingsbyonedirection, Tbonechick2011, roxxirox, scott6130, brandibuckeye, Laurafxox, ClarinetRox88, MysticRyter, LianaDare8, Chester-Grey, Comiccrazygothgirl_ and_ LunaTheLoneWolf_! Thank you all so much for your amazing words :)**

**Great news though - we're almost at 100 reviews! Can we make it there by next chapter? :3 Thanks again for reading, everyone, and please tell me what you thought! READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	9. Barrels

Janet Van Dyne's POV

_Two barrels of tears will not heal a bruise._

_- Chinese proverb_

"I'm so glad you all agreed to come out with me for a Girls' Day!" I gushed, smiling at the three lovely ladies standing in front of me. "I mean, I'm sure you all agree when I say that sometimes we really just need to get out of the Tower," I nodded vigorously. "There are so many men there that us girls get overpowered. We need more women on the Avengers team, no? We _have _enough muscle-power already – we need more brain and compassion!"

"Whatever you say," Sam grumbled, pulling her Santa hat down over her ears. "Tasha, do you think this tree is good enough?"

Natasha ignored her, and instead stood in the corner, sulking. "It's too small," Pepper tried helpfully; Sam sighed in exasperation.

I had taken my three favorite ladies – Natasha Romanoff, Pepper Potts, and Samantha Silverman – out to buy a Christmas tree today. First, we had all gone to Starbucks to get tea and coffee, but now we were on our feet and ready to start planning for Christmas.

"Anyway, I think we should form our own little mini-team. Like, a female branch of the Avengers," I interrupted. "Called the Femme Fatales. And you're all invited to join!"

"I'm not a superhero," Pepper pointed out.

"Yes, but you would be a great brain! As in, the mastermind behind all our missions. Our manager, sort of." Pepper smiled.

"Thanks, but I'm fine working for S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers," Nat crossed her arms over her chest, and I snapped.

"Oh, will you stop being so bitter, Natasha?" I stomped my foot. "Just because you are a Russian spy does not mean you can't be happy! We're your friends, Nat, and it would be nice if you actually _pretended_ to like us."

"Jan's got a point," Sam raised an eyebrow, walking along the rows of Christmas trees in the lot, trying to find the right one.

Natasha sighed. "Okay, okay, sorry. I'm just not much of a people person."

"How's the search for the Winter Soldier going?" Pepper asked, trying to be friendly.

That certainly perked Nat right up. "Slow, but honestly, it's progress. He's a master at staying hidden from the world, and I'm surprised that I've been able to find any leads on him at all. If he doesn't want to be found, then he _won't _be found – but I'm the kind of person who always finds who I'm looking for. It's sort of a paradox, but maybe that's why we were always so good together. As a team, I mean. Back when we both worked for the U.S.S.R. Although . . . I guess, yes, it worked out in our relationship, too. James is the only man I've ever loved, I'll admit it, and that's why I'm trying so hard to find him. Can you believe that once upon a time – even after I was the Black Widow – I had actually wanted to settle down and have kids? See, you all think I'm so cold and tough, but I wanted a family once. And I loved James. So I'm not heartless, believe it or not."

We all stared at her in astonishment. Not only was that the most she'd ever opened up to us, but it was the most she'd ever even _talked _to us.

"Oh, it's okay, Nat," I said, throwing my arms around her in a hug. "Things will be okay, and you'll find your prince charming again."

"Get your hands off me, Van Dyne."

I snickered, releasing her. "Oops. Sorry."

"And how are things in your love life, Janet?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

My expression darkened. "Actually . . . not so good." The girls all made concerned noises. "I just – Henry and I try so hard to make it work out. We're husband and wife, after all. But he can be so arrogant sometimes!" I whined. "He's very impulsive and angry. I don't think he's cut out for hero work as Ant-Man," I shrugged. "He should be staying in the lab. But he still feels guilty about Ultron . . . No matter. He can be all these hateful things, but I know he still loves me. He just doesn't say it often enough!"

"I think I know how you feel, Janet," Pepper put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Tony's the same, and I have no idea what's going on with him. One moment, he says he loves me, and then next he's sleeping with some barely-over-age blonde he met at MJ's Club. I swear, that man's going to be a bachelor for life."

"Tony's incorrigible," Nat said, starting to look over Christmas trees with Samantha, "but I think he really does like you. Honestly, Pep, you're the best thing that's ever happened to him."

Pepper smiled in that classy, subdued way of hers. "That means a lot, Tash, coming from you. So thanks."

"How about this Christmas tree?" Sam asked, pointing at the tallest one in the lot. "It's certainly big enough, and wide enough. It'll fit perfectly in Avengers Tower."

"You're changing the subject, Sam!" I squeaked; she looked taken aback.

"What subject?"

"Our love lives, of course," I rolled my eyes, since it was obvious. "How're things with you and Steve?"

"Yeah, didn't you two just move in together?" asked Nat, while Pepper walked around the tree, inspecting it. Deeming it perfect, we headed off to find a salesman so we could pay for it.

"Move in together?!" I squealed, jumping up and down. "Why haven't I heard of this before, Sam?! Can I decorate your place? Where is it? Is it nice? Does it have a view? Was it expensive?"

"Um, I just kinda moved into Steve's flat," she said awkwardly. "So sorry, Jan, but it's already been decorated." I pouted.

Pepper was smiling at Sam, though. "Are you two getting along? How is it, living with him?"

"Uh, it's fine-"

"Oh my God, you're living together. That must mean you two are getting down and dirty," I stopped my sulking to wink.

"Well, _no_, but-"

"Oooooooooh, trouble in the bedroom!" I cackled gleefully; Pepper and Natasha even joined in on the "Oooh".

"No, no," Sam shook her head, but we were interrupted as we bought the Christmas tree and loaded it into Pepper's car. Once we were all packed in, though, and on our way back to Avengers Tower, we were able to re-start our conversation.

"So you and Steve _aren't_ having sex?" I asked loudly, and Sam flinched at my words.

"Um, Jan-"

"Even as a married woman, I have to admit, Captain America would be pretty freaking amazing in bed," I said honestly. "Have you seen him shirtless?! Granted, I haven't, but I can just imagine-"

"Janet, will you please shut up and stop cutting me off!" Sam snapped, and I instantly stopped talking, afraid she might be angry. "Steve and I are fine with where we are in our relationship, okay? He wants to take things slow, and I'm alright with that. I can respect his wishes." She frowned. "Although a little more action _would_ be nice. But I've told him that, and he's working on it."

"Maybe after you've sorted out your instability with the formula and everything," Pepper, who was driving, tried helpfully.

"Sam?" Natasha asked, her voice gentle. "Are you in love with Steve?"

There was a long pause before Sam, who was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, turned to look at me and Nat in the backseat. "Maybe," she admitted.

"I'm serious, Sam," Nat raised her eyebrows.

"Yes," Sam blushed.

Tasha, Pepper and I all made the "Ooooooh" sound again, in perfect synch.

"That's so cute!" I gushed, getting excited. "Our little Sammy's fallen in love with a big, tough soldier! With Captain America!"

"Does Steve know?" Pepper asked, always the reasonable one.

"Euh . . . no. Not really, I guess," Sam grimaced. "I don't know, it's just so hard to say. What if he doesn't love me back, right?"

Natasha snorted. "Oh, I'm pretty sure he's head-over-heels for you, Sam."

She waved her hand absentmindedly. "Yeah, but it'll still feel like I'm making myself so much more vulnerable."

"Like you're giving away a piece of yourself!" I chimed in.

"Not helping, Janet," Natasha glared over at me.

"No, no, she's right," Sam shook her head, turning around to face forward again. "I'm just having trouble working up the courage to say it."

"Maybe if you admit you're in love, he'll finally sleep with you," I grinned. Natasha slapped me on the arm, and Pepper _tsk_ed.

"Just take your time, Samantha," Pep said gently, "and yet, try and be quick about it. In the superhero business, you never know how much time you'll have left. But still – only say it when you're ready."

"I know. Thanks for understanding, guys," Sam ran a hand through her hair. "And please, don't go and tell him!"

Natasha laughed. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with us."

We finally arrived back at Avengers Tower, and somehow managed to bring the Christmas tree all the way up to the penthouse by ourselves. "Girl power!" I kept saying, and the others repeatedly shot me dirty looks.

Clint Barton helped us put the tree up, though. All the other boys were out that morning – Tony, Bruce and Hank were in some lab downtown working on a formula for Sam, Steve was up on the S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier, and Thor was off looking into the Enchantress business. Of course, Namor was at the Tower too, but he didn't lift a finger to help us with our tree. Natasha was eyeing him warily – because _he _was eyeing us in an entirely different way.

"You know, Atlantean women are a lot more of an eyesore," he remarked, lounging on a chair in the living room. "You ladies – I could watch you work all day."

"Well, that's a bit creepy," Samantha said under her breath to Pepper as they unloaded boxes filled with Christmas decorations.

"Everyone in Atlantis has blue skin," he droned on. "It's a beautiful city, though – but of course I think that. I am its ruler, after all," he chuckled, as if it was amusing. "I am loyal to nothing but Atlantis and I will do whatever I must in order to keep it safe. Whether it be an act of good or evil, if it saves the people of Atlantis, I will do it regardless of what others may think. I take orders from no one but myself."

"That's fan-fucking-tastic," Sam rolled her eyes, "but no one gives a crap." Namor shot out of his seat, bounding across the room over to her.

"And I don't take – what do you humans call it? – _shit_ from anyone," he growled, glaring down at her. Namor grabbed her jaw in his hand, pulling her face towards him. "You are the one courting Captain America, no? You date the Americans' attack dog?"

"Let her go, Namor," Natasha said from behind him, and I turned to see her with a gun in her hand, already locked and loaded. It was pointed straight at the Sub-Mariner's head, but he didn't seem fazed.

"I refuse to take orders from petty surface-dwellers when it is not in my best interests," he raised his eyebrows, his voice rising at the end. "Anything good enough for Captain is good enough for me," he turned back to Samantha, running his other hand through her hair. "No one in Atlantis has golden locks, like the sun – we barely get to _see_ the sun."

There was a sound from the other side of the room, near Natasha: Clint notched an arrow and aimed it at Namor's back. "I suggest you listen to Agent Romanoff," his voice was dark, "and you put her down."

"I can take care of myself," Sam grumbled resentfully, turning into water and becoming nothing more than a puddle on the floor. Namor narrowed his eyes and then stormed out, shooting a glare in Natasha and Clint's direction.

Sam went back to her solid, human form again, sitting on the floor and running her hands along her jaw, where bruises were already starting to form from Namor's super-strength grip. "Next time," she murmured. "Next time, I'm turning him into sushi."

"Are you all right?" Pepper asked, rushing over as Clint and Nat put down their weapons. I jumped forwards to wrap Sam in a huge hug, put she pushed me off uncomfortably.

"I'm perfectly fine, guys. Don't worry. It's not like he specifically has it out for me or something – he was staring at _all _of us in that perverted way," she shrugged. "Except Clint, of course."

"I don't trust that guy," Tasha frowned. "And I'm sure Tony and Steve will want to hear about this."

"Will it even matter?" Clint asked, kneeling down beside Sam. "Namor's only here because we need information on his Atlantean weaponry. It's not like we can kick him off the Avengers team, because technically, he's not even an Avenger."

"Yeah, and I don't really want Steve getting all over-protective or something," Sam scrunched up her face. "Just . . . no. He hasn't yet learned that I don't need someone constantly looking after me."

"Let's go out for a break," Pepper said, standing up and patting her hair down. "Girls' Day, Part 2. Right, Jan?"

I grinned. "My name's catching on!"

"Yeah, yeah," Tasha chewed on her lip. "Pep's right, though. We need to get out of a building with _Namor_ in it."

"I'm assuming that I'm not invited," Clint raised an eyebrow, "since I'm not a girl."

Sam grimaced, standing up. "You can start decorating the tree. Sorry though, bub."

He shook his head. "It's fine. Go get pedicures or something."

"_Oh my God, _that's a _fabulous_ idea!" I squealed. "Thank you!"

"Thanks a lot," Natasha smacked him on the arm, frowning.

In the end, we actually just went out to buy more Christmas decorations, and some Avengers ornaments that had popped up all over the city in tourist shops for the tree. My favorite was the one of Cap and Masquerade kissing, although the one of Thor and his hammer was pretty well-done, too.

"Oh, look! There's my friend from the gym!" Sam exclaimed while we were looking through the ornaments, pointing to a gorgeous blonde woman standing on the other side of the store. "Amora!" she called out.

The woman stepped behind a rack of I HEART NY t-shirts, ignoring Sam, who then tried to walk over to her. Amora noticed her coming and turned around, walking in the other direction briskly.

"What the hell?" Sam crossed her arms over her chest, coming back to us.

"Some friend," I snickered.

"Oh, shush," said Pep. "I'm sure it was just a great big misunderstanding."

"Sorta like this," Natasha walked over, _The Daily Bugle _in her hand. On the front cover was a picture of Ms. Marvel (I'm incredibly proud of that name, just saying), flying after the Enchantress.

"'Photo Credit: Peter Parker'," Sam read the fine print, grinning.

"The media seems to think that she's Masquerade," Natasha tapped the headline, which announced that Masquerade had changed her costume in favor of this new black one.

"Well, I must say, Ms. Marvel has some pretty good fashion sense," I nodded approvingly. "I love the thigh-high boots. Whoever she is, she's got the legs to pull them off."

Pepper scratched her nose. "Are we sure that this 'Ms. Marvel' is on our side? We don't know her."

"We don't know a lot of heroes, Pep, and that doesn't mean they're all bad," I pointed out. "Ms. Marvel's not famous, sure, but I still believe she's just here to help. You never know, she could be the best hero New York's ever seen. We just don't know it yet."

"Excuse me," a young blonde woman in a red t-shirt said, walking over, "but did I overhear you saying . . . 'Ms. Marvel'?"

"Oh!" Sam exclaimed. "Major Carol Danvers of the Air Force!"

The woman looked up in surprise to see Sam. "Samantha Stark. We met at the party last night, right?"

Sam nodded vigorously. "You're a friend of Steve's."

She grimaced. "Not really. I only met him last night, as well. Handsome man. Really nice, too," she sighed, her eyes lighting up a bit. "I haven't met a man as gentlemanly as Steve Rogers in a long time." Sam and I exchanged an awkward glance as Carol went on. "He said he used to be in the army, and he recognized my uniform. That's why he came up and talked to me, you know. I'm not really sure why he was invited to the party, though, since he just works at a museum now," she frowned. "Maybe he's got connections."

"Uh, he's a friend of Tony Stark, who financed the party," Pepper cut in.

Carol made little finger-guns and pretended to shoot her. "Right. That's why. Anyway, I'm thinking of dropping by his museum today to say hi. He was cute," she smiled, picking up a Captain America ornament, although I think it was only a coincidence – she couldn't have realized Steve was Cap. "I just, I dunno. Haven't met a nice guy in a while, right? So I was thinking. Maybe Steve. He's cute. Wait, I said that," she shook her head. "I just have a lot of trouble in the boyfriend department," Carol sighed. "Point is, I know you're friends with him, Sam, and I was wondering if you knew anything about him? Girl-to-girl?"

"Uh," Sam looked a bit flabbergasted.

I pretended to cough. "_Ahem,_ Steve's got a girlfriend," I said, coughing again. Carol rolled her eyes, but then changed the subject quickly.

"Well, look, you were all saying that you don't think this is Masquerade?" she gently took the paper from my hands. "I knew I wasn't the only one in this city who believed that."

"Pfft, um, what, no, this is totally Masquerade," Sam stuttered, grabbing it back. "Look. Same blonde hair. Duh."

"Uh, no, Masquerade has different powers," Carol pointed out. "Why does everyone just assume they're the same, because of the hair?!"

"Well, you know, it was Masquerade's party," Sam was playing the dumb card, but for what reason, I couldn't tell. "So where the hell was Masquerade?"

"Off smooching with Captain America," Carol retorted.

Sam slung an arm around the pilot. "You know, I like you, Carol. But what evidence do you have that they're two different people?"

"They just are!" she cried.

"Look, okay, fine," Sam let go of her. "Since my dad's an Avenger, I happen to know that Masquerade is supposed to be going on night patrol in a few days. If Ms. Marvel and Masquerade both show up, then you're right, I guess. Otherwise . . ."

"How much you wanna bet?"

"Fifty bucks!"

They exchanged phone numbers, acting like friends suddenly. I exchanged a bewildered glance with Pepper.

Once Carol was gone, Sam ran a hand through her hair. "Well, that was fun."

"What was that all about?!" I said, feeling left out.

"Carol Danvers is Ms. Marvel," Natasha said in a bored voice, as if this was old news.

"How do you know?!"

"Well, you saw how worked up she got about the whole thing," the Russian spy pointed out. "Plus, if you look between the two of them, Carol and Sam are actually quite similar in appearance. The media wasn't far off when they said that Masquerade looked like this new heroine."

"Carol's a pilot in the air force, too. She's used to flying, and she could've gotten her powers through some military experiment," Sam added in.

"And you both pieced this all together to figure out she's our mystery girl?" I asked, astonished.

"Yeah, well, all that and the fact she had a red sash in her bag," Natasha rolled her eyes. "Plus, she was wearing her costume underneath her shirt – you could see the black neck of it."

"It certainly helped that she had caught me when I fell yesterday night – I got a close-up look at her. Ms. Marvel even smells just like Carol," Sam chuckled.

I pouted. "Now I feel like an idiot."

"It's okay, I didn't pick up any of that either," Pepper patted me on the back.

"Although I do have to say, you handled her whole Steve-crush thing rather well," I nodded at Samantha, who just glowered.

"Yeah, that was awkward. But I trust Steve. Besides, he doesn't even work at the museum," she laughed. "Carol's on a wild goose chase."

We decided it was a good time to head back to the tower, since it was getting late. By the time we returned, Tony, Hank and Bruce were there . . . and you could barely recognize the place.

Clint opened the door for us, his eyes wide and fear-filled. "Tony – decorating – _ahh_!"

I stepped through the door to find myself in a winter wonderland – and I don't mean the kind where the tree was decorated, there was hot chocolate waiting, and the fire was crackling. No, the place was _drowning _in decorations, from garland to fake snow and from stockings for every Avenger to a full-size wooden replica of the birth of Jesus.

"This happened last year, too," Natasha said to Sam, walking into the kitchen and shifting through the multiple bottles of eggnog in the fridge, looking for a snack. "Tony went absolutely nuts with the Christmas decorating. He doesn't even like the holiday!"

"Yeah, and then he makes _me _clean it all up," Pepper scrunched up her nose, as if she had smelled something bad.

Sam just stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the giant blow-up Santa Claus that was blocking our view of Chrysler Tower.

"Tony, I love what you've done with the place!" I squealed when he walked into the room, but he ignored me, heading straight for Sam. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, you didn't get to spend Christmas with us last year since you were in Rome, so I wanted you to have the full Stark experience," he told her, acting as if it was no big deal.

"The only new addition is the polar bear statue," Natasha walked into the room to sit by the roaring fire, pointing at a 6-foot-tall stuffed polar bear sitting in the corner, its mouth open.

"And you did all this while we were out buying Avengers ornaments?!" Sam exclaimed.

Tony shrugged. "You guys took a long time. Besides, the Iron Man suit helps hurry things along. And all the muscle power I get from the other Avengers doesn't hurt."

"I decorated the tree!" Clint chimed in; he had followed us from the doorway. I sat down beside Natasha in front of the fire, sipping on the hot chocolate that Hank brought me; he kissed me on the top of the head and I smiled, reminded of my conversation with the girls earlier that day.

"I love you," he said, pulling up a chair so he could sit beside me.

"Love you too," I reached up, grabbing a hold of his hand and entwining our fingers. "Clint, put on some Christmas music, will you? I think I'm finally in the holiday mood," I looked over at the archer.

"Why do you have bruises on your jaw?" Tony interrupted, directing his question at Sam as his brow furrowed.

"Walked into a door," she tried, and although I could tell Tony wasn't buying it, he didn't say anything.

Pepper, who was hanging our Avengers ornaments on the tree, stopped when her cell phone beeped. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen; her eyes widened.

"Avengers? I think we may have some new information on that attack yesterday," she walked over to show Tony.

He put his business face on right away. "Avengers, assemble . . . around the Christmas tree!"

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Thanks for reading - and thank you for getting us past 100 reviews last time! You're all truly amazing; you make this writing thing worth it, and I can't thank you enough. **

**Captain America #1 came out today (the comic, that is). It was _way_ better than I thought it would be :) Anyway, I thought it was kinda poetic that I posted a chapter at the same time as Cap's new release. Anyone else read the comic?**

**Oh, and just a side note, I'm not going to have a love triangle with Ms. Marvel/Carol Danvers. She never gets with Steve in the comics, and besides, that would make things a lot more complicated and confusing :3 so for now, it's just an unrequited crush.**

**Extra thanks to the wonderful reviewers, who make my week so much easier to face with their lovely reviews: _MysticRyter, littlethingsbyonedirection, DeadpoolLOLOLOL, GoForTehGig, LianaDare8, clarinetgirl628, CeffylGwyn, InLoveWithTheRogue, erica . phoenix 16, Lady Firewing, Of thieves and liars, Laurafxox, roxxirox, brandibuckeye_ and_ Shadow Realm Triforce_! We made it to 100 reviews, and I can never thank you enough for it. **

**Once again, thanks to everyone for reading, and please leave a review telling me what you thought of this chapter! Until next time, and READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	10. Bad Planning

Natasha Romanoff's POV

_Adventure is just bad planning._

_- Roald Amundsen_

Tony Stark may have been the oft-voted smartest person on the planet, but sometimes, he came up with the dumbest goddamn ideas. Rather than just using Sam as bait, he wanted to literally throw her into the lion's cage – and this lion had machine guns strapped to its back and eyes that shot lasers.

Let me rewind a bit.

"Avengers assemble around the Christmas tree!" Tony uttered what could possibly be the lamest thing he'd ever said. And so we huddled – every one of us – in the living room: me, Sam and Tony by the window; Clint and Bruce on the couches; Pepper, Hank and Janet near the polar bear. Namor hovered in the doorway, since he wasn't really welcomed in the meeting. Jarvis the butler came waddling in with eggnog and Christmas cookies for everyone, and even I couldn't help but smile at the man. Steve and Thor were still out, but no one bothered waiting for them – besides, the incoming message Pepper had gotten on her phone was from Thor. Sam tried to call Steve twice, but he never picked up.

"He wants to video-chat," Pepper raised an eyebrow at her Stark Phone, hooking up the cell to the computer so we could all chat with Thor via webcam. Once the image blinked on, we got a nice close-up view of the Norse god's eyebrows.

"GREETINGS, AVENGERS," his voice boomed over the speakers in the penthouse, and Jarvis rushed to turn the volume down. "I have discovered how to use this Time of Face on my Eye-Phone!"

"Please don't tell me that's the entire reason you called," I groaned.

"No, no," Pepper shook her head. "Thor, tell them what you texted me. In all caps lock, I might add."

"Caps? Are you referring to the Captain of America? I do not see him there," Thor's voice was still incredibly loud, considering the volume was almost off.

"Hey, Viking, pull the screen further away from your face," Tony called out.

Thor's eyebrows creased. "I do not like being called a Viking! You take that back, Man of Iron!"

Bruce sighed. "We are getting nowhere, fast."

"Alright, alright," Hank held up a hand, trying to quiet everyone down. "Thor. Why'd you call?"

We continued to stare at a wall-sized video of Thor's eyebrows while he talked. "I have been searching for the Enchantress, because I recognized her name! She is Asgardian, and so I did some sleuthing work of my own! The God of Thunder makes a good detective, I jest not!"

"Lemme guess," Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your 'detective' work was going to a bar to drink a bunch of mead and protect the honor of some poor lady who was getting hit on by a creepy hobo, and along the way you just happened to find some useful information."

"That was only once!" Thor's eyebrows shot up. "Your words are harsh!"

"Suck it up. Viking," Namor called from across the room.

"Is that the fish-boy?" Thor's blonde eyebrows furrowed. "I do not trust that man. Eject him from the room while I tell my story."

"Namor's acting as a temporary Avenger," Bruce tried to explain. "We need his Atlantean weaponry and, trust me, this is a guy you want on your side during a fight."

Sam rubbed her jaw absentmindedly, the dark bruises now prominent against her pale skin. I caught her eye, but she quickly looked away.

"Thor, just go ahead and spit it out. What've you found?" Clint asked, fooling with one of his arrows.

"The Enchantress is from Asgard, and she is the disturbance in the atmosphere that Prince Namor and I noticed. She has entered Midgard because it is the will of Loki that she comes to complete what was not finished with the Chitauri. I spoke to my father, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three: Fandral the Dashing, Hogun the Grim and Volstagg the Valiant!"

"I thought it was Volstagg the Fat," Sam chuckled darkly under her breath, and at the same time Tony said, "That's a lot of names that I don't really care for."

"Nevertheless they, too, have been searching high and low for Loki ever since he escaped," Thor announced. "Odin the All-Father bequeathed to me the knowledge that it was the Enchantress who broke Loki out of jail. Only magic as powerful as hers could have broken his bonds. She is a seductress and sorceress not to be trusted!"

"Well, great. Does that mean we might have to deal with your greasy-haired brother again?!" Clint asked.

"The whereabouts of Loki are not currently known," Thor's voice was grave. "He may have bigger things planned for his return. The Enchantress could be just the beginning."

We were interrupted by the ringing of Sam's cell phone. She blushed bright red and pulled it out, muttering a "Sorry, sorry. Just my mom," she turned the ringer off, setting the phone down on her lap. "No biggie. Keep going."

"As I was saying," Thor went on as if nothing had happened, and the view changed to a shot of his forehead, "Amora the Enchantress may or may not be–"

"Whoa. Hang on a second there," Sam held up her hands. "Amora?"

"Yes, that is what I said," Thor's voice was a bit cross.

"Like, really pretty, curly blonde hair, green eyes?"

"She is the most beautiful woman in all of Asgard, with a heart of ice but a body of-"

"Um, I think I'm sort of . . . friends with her."

Everyone was quiet, until Thor's booming laugh sounded through the speakers. The screen of Sam's phone lit up, saying she had another call from her mother, but she ignored it.

"And what business would Amora have, spending her time with petty Midgardians?"

"I take offence to that," Sam pouted, "but you know, she talks in the same sort of style as you."

Bruce began pacing the room, his hands behind his back. "Thor, you believe that Amora would not just 'hang out' with Sam?"

"Not even if she was the last person alive after Ragnarok. Amora considers Midgardians to be worms beneath her. She takes her goddess business seriously."

"But Sam . . ." Bruce picked at his lip. "You think this Amora woman you're friends with could be the Enchantress?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. I mean . . . I don't know."

"But it makes sense, doesn't it?" Janet piped up. "It's like Thor said. Amora isn't going to hang around Sam because she's bored - there's got to be a reason. Especially if she's working with Loki."

I snapped my fingers. "The Enchantress crashed the ball specifically because she was searching for Sam. She's _after Sam_. But - why?"

"Thor knows the response to this!" Thor cried, excited. "Amora wants control over the Avengers!"

"And how's she going to do that by kidnapping Samantha?" Hank crossed his arms over his chest.

"He means to get to _Tony_ through Sam," Clint's eyes widened. "Tony's got money, he's got power, and he's got brains. But his 'daughter' is being portrayed in the media as brain-dead. The Enchantress must figure-"

"That it's easier to kidnap Sam than it is to kidnap me," Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Ooh, fun. And then what? He'll hold me for ransom? Use me as leverage during whatever plan Loki's got cooking up?"

"Uh . . . yeah," Bruce shrugged awkwardly. Sam leant her elbows on her knees, putting her head in her hands. Her cell phone screen lit up again, and she chucked it on the floor where it wouldn't bug her.

"Why does everything always happened to _me_?!" she groaned.

"That's not a fair question," I pointed out unhelpfully. "If you wonder why everything bad happens to you, then you've got to wonder why _good_ things happen to you, too."

"Shut up, Natasha," Sam said through bared teeth. A strand of garland above Hank's head caught fire, and judging by the way Sam started, it wasn't on purpose.

She jumped up, glaring at Tony. "This is _your_ fault!" she snapped, her hands shaking and her face red. Bruce, recognizing the anger spell, ran out of the room. "If you hadn't insisted on that _stupid_ plan of yours to make me your goddamn daughter, we wouldn't have to deal with this!" she yelled, and Tony flinched.

"Look, Sam, I didn't think it would go this far," he tried to reason with her. "I'm sorry, okay?" She opened her mouth to yell at him again, but he cut her off quickly. "You're being unreasonable, Samantha. This isn't you talking, it's the damn drugs and the damn anger! You _know_ I saved your ass from being revealed at Masquerade – it just came with consequences that you weren't prepared for. I'll admit, it wasn't supposed to go on for this long, and now we're in a hiccup. But you're still anonymous! That was the original plan, and it worked, didn't it?! You can take care of yourself, Sam, that's why I was never worried about putting this much pressure on you!"

"I am _19 years old_, Tony! I shouldn't even have to _imagine_ this much pressure! My greatest worries in life should be over university courses and what to wear on my next date, not whether or not I'm going to _die_ the next time I walk outside."

Tony rubbed his eyes. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you? What happened to the Sam who was desperate to save others before herself and who could barely utter a non-sarcastic sentence?"

"You sound like Steve," she crossed her arms over her chest. The rest of the Avengers looked at each other awkwardly, not sure how to react to their fight. The left side of Sam's face turned to water suddenly, but she didn't seem to notice.

"That's the problem then, isn't it?" Tony snapped. "I'm not Steve. I'm not going to sit by and try my hardest to keep you happy all the time, just so I don't have to deal with this. You are being so, so selfish!" he threw up his hands. "_Me, me, me_! So much pressure on _me_! _My_ future's been ruined! Tony's taken away _my_ social life! _My_ life's always in danger! Me me me me me-"

"Shut up!" Sam yelled, flinging a small penguin statue across the room at him; it shattered against the wall, leaving a dent.

"You are acting like a 5-year-old," Tony gritted his teeth. "You can't even control yourself now. Look, Sam, you're not alone in this. The rest of us have inner demons, too, we've just learned not to take them out on one another. At night, I can't sleep. And when I do, I have nightmares. But do I go around throwing things and yelling about how life isn't fair? NO! You continue to act like you have no choice, Sam, and that your life sucks major ass. But you DO have a choice, so stop complaining!"

Bruce suddenly came running back into the room, a needle in one hand and multiple sheets of paper in the other. Before Sam could react, Hank had grabbed her from behind and Bruce stabbed her in the neck with the needle, deploying whatever liquid was in it into a vein. Sam went deathly pale as soon as he let her go, stumbling back a few steps.

"You have so much that you don't appreciate," Tony finished. "A mom, a brother, a boyfriend. Friends that protect you. A home. Good food and regular exercise. Luxury items. The power to do good in the world. Come back and talk to me about how I've ruined your life _after_ you've taken a second look at yourself and realized that you have so much more than you fucking deserve."

Sam sat on the floor heavily, unable to speak. Her eyes were wide and glazed over, and the veins stood out prominently in her hands and neck.

"What'd you do?!" I asked Bruce, quiet enough so that Sam couldn't hear.

"Temporary stabilizing serum," he said, holding up the papers in his hand. "Here are the results from a brain scan we did, and as predicted, the cell-altering serum in her body – the stuff that gives her powers – is slowly killing her, and destroying her sanity bit by bit."

"So she's losing control of her powers . . . and getting angry all the time . . . because her super serum is unstable?"

"Precisely," he nodded, and we watched as color began to come back into Sam's face. "Hank, Tony, Samantha's father and I are working on a cure. We've already made huge progress," he waved the needle in his hand. "This – what I just injected her with – shuts down her system for long enough that the other components of this antidote can temporarily re-bind her super soldier serum to the cells. When she's mad it'll put her straight back to normal, but it'll only keep her powers stable for, oh, I don't know. Fifteen minutes, maybe?"

"Then her body will start killing itself again," I said, and it was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes," Bruce nodded anyway, looking grim.

Sam ran her hands through her hair, stretching out her legs on the ground. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Tony – that was a bit harsh . . . but possibly the most honest thing anyone's said to me in a long time. So thank you."

"You gonna start trying to control your anger by yourself, Sam? Or are you just going to wait it out until we have a real cure?" he snapped.

"I'll try to keep a lid on it, Tony," she stood up. "I'm sorry. You're right about everything."

"I know," he smirked. She stuck out her tongue in a very natural, old-Sam sort of way.

"Now, before you freak out . . ." Tony said slowly, "I think I have a plan. But you're not going to like it."

"Hit me with it," she squared her shoulders.

"We can use this daughter thing to our advantage now," said Tony. "You can be a sort of 'bait'. We'll keep on acting like everything is perfectly normal; like we don't know about Amora. You can go hang out with her and be BFFs and paint each other's toenails and all that. Then when she 'kidnaps' you, you strike back – she doesn't know you're Masquerade, right?"

"So you attack from the inside of her operation," I added on, "you find out what the hell she's up to, whether or not she's really working with Loki, and then you get your ass back to us."

"Can you handle that, Sammy?"

She nodded slowly, as Jarvis rushed up to her with a glass of water.

"We'll be with you every step of the way," said Clint helpfully.

"But no one is to interfere with her meetings with Amora," Bruce said. "That could jeopardize everything is she found out Sam's an Avenger."

"This is, of course, only if your assumptions of Amora are correct," said Thor. "If not, this could be a very dangerous gamble – or a grand waste of our time."

"From a professional spy's point of view," I sighed, "it does seem like we've got it right. We don't have many clues, but they all point in this direction."

"And what of my stolen weaponry?" Namor asked, butting in.

"What of it?" I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Does it have anything to do with The Enchantress?"

"Does it really seem like I'm going to know the answer to that question?"

Bruce held up a hand. "Wait, what even went missing?!"

Namor sucked in a breath. "A better weapon than you could ever have come up with, Doctor."

Hank frowned. "What kind of weapon?"

"A dangerous one," Namor said stubbornly. Hank sighed in exasperation.

Tony began to pace the room. "Through Fury's intel, I know what it is. Sort of," he glared at Namor. "Some sort of bomb, right? A 'madbomb'?"

"What's a madbomb?" Janet piped in.

"A 'bomb' that compels everyone within the vicinity to act insane. It's been known to cause riots," I cut in. "S.H.I.E.L.D's been investigating them for quite some time now. I had to deal with a riot in Philadelphia, started by madbombs, just last summer. I didn't know they were Atlantean, though."

"So if it was _recently_ stolen," Sam pondered, "why has Tasha been searching them up for a while now?"

"Just because they were _invented_ by the people of Atlantis doesn't mean we haven't sold them to other superpowers of the world. Good or evil, so long as my city profits-"

"Yeah, yeah, we know. But this time they were _stolen_, rather than _sold_?"

"Precisely."

"So," Tony scratched his forehead, "I dragged you all the way up here because I thought some super dangerous bomb had been stolen, when really, it's been around for a while now?"

Namor's expression was stormy, but it confirmed Tony's thoughts.

"Does that mean we can send Namor back to Atlantis?" I raised an eyebrow. "Look, he's not exactly very helpful to the team . . ." I glanced over at Sam again.

"No," Thor boomed, and we saw his forehead move back and forward as he shook his head. "As much as I dislike the prince, he is a valuable ally. We shall need him in the coming war."

"_War_?!" Sam started, but she was ignored.

"Does that mean he's an Avenger?" Janet's nose was scrunched up, although I don't think she realized she was making a disgusted face.

"I will not stoop so low as to join your team of petty, tiny mortals," Namor announced.

"These mortals," Thor suddenly said, surprising us all, "are my friends, allies, and brothers. And sisters," he added as an afterthought. "They are fellow warriors, and more evolved than you seem to think. I mind how you speak of them, Sub-Mariner, and I suggest you begin to choose your words wisely. I am a god, but these mortals have earned my respect. They bow to no one."

Tony began clapping slowly, and Pepper shot him a look to make him shut up. Jarvis scurried around the room, re-filling glasses of eggnog and making sure all the stockings were hung up properly as Sam's phone rang again; an awkward silence continued on. "Uh," Hank murmured.

"Meeting adjourned, I guess," Bruce wrung his hands out nervously. "Sam, you have duties with Amora, no? Tony, Hank, I need you to help me with this serum. Natasha and Clint-"

"We'll look into the madbombs," I said. "Thor, get yourself back to Avengers Tower without hurting anyone or anything. Can you do that?"

"Of course, my lady. I shall make swift passage!" The screen blinked off.

"Pepper and I are going to go pick out some Christmas movies for us to all watch later!" Janet jumped up, dragging an astounded Pepper away by the hand.

"But I have to work on-"

"NO."

"Jarvis, do me a favor and contact Steve. We need to run all this new information by him," Tony said to the butler. Sam grabbed her cell phone, glancing at the screen with tired eyes.

"Four missed calls and one voicemail, all from my mother. Be right back, guys," she said, re-dialing the number and walking off to a more secluded part of the building, where she could talk privately.

I was still in the living room, looking out at the snowy New York City view (and thinking of the Winter Soldier, I might add) when she came back ten minutes later. Sam was pale again, and her face was worried; I couldn't help but think that maybe something bad had happened to her mother, and because Sam had ignored the calls, it had only gotten worse.

"Tasha?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Uh . . . no," she ran a hand through her hair. "I've got to drive to the airport. Will you come with me? I think I'll need support."

"Yeah, sure. But, if you don't mind me asking . . . why?" I wondered, as we hopped on the elevator down to Tony's garage. Sam grabbed the keys to Tony's Maserati on the way, since she had given her silver Ford Focus to her brother, back in Chicago. "Is your mom alright?"

"Yeah, she's fine," Sam waved her hand absentmindedly, something she did often. "It's not her, it's-"

"Your brother," I guessed, as we reached the parking garage and climbed into the Maserati; I took the passenger seat.

Sam started up the ignition, biting her lip. "Yeah. Thanks again for coming, by the way. I know we aren't really the best of friends," she grimaced, "but you're the only one not busy at the moment, and for some reason I think he might actually like you. I just don't want to do this alone. It'll be too awkward."

"Wait, what do you mean 'might actually like you'?"

"He has this thing against Steve," Sam pulled out of the garage and onto the busy New York streets. "I don't know why, but he just really doesn't like him."

We rode in silence for a while, just until we got out of Manhattan, heading for JFK. Finally, I couldn't help but ask: "So you're picking your brother up from the airport?" She nodded. "Why?"

"Mom's shipping him off to live with me for a bit. Thing is, she didn't know I live with Steve," Sam banged her head against the wheel. "I fear it'll just make things worse."

"What things?"

Sam slammed the break sharply as we came upon a red light, and took an agitated breath. "You remember last year, when I was in Rome?"

"Of course."

"Yeah, well, Luke had depression because I moved away and all that. Mom put him on drugs, yadda yadda yadda, he got better. But now she thinks he's got dysthymia, which is _persistent_ depression, because it's back again," her eyes watered. "She said he tried to kill himself by drinking bleach, but then freaked out and told her so they could get to the hospital before he . . . y'know."

"But he's okay now?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's still scary," said Sam. "He's on drugs again, I think, and Mom's sent him out to me because she wants him to get away from Chicago. There are too many bad memories there, and she hopes some time in a big city will be like a vacation for him."

"Why's he depressed?" I asked, as a black sedan cut us off; Sam honked at them, but she didn't seem that angry.

"I don't know, really. Or maybe I do. It just seems so redundant," she shrugged. "It started with Dad, I guess. Dad and Luke were really close, so when Dad went all psycho and then divorced Mom, that took its toll on Lukie. Then they moved houses, and I ditched for Rome. I think he took that personally," she frowned. "Luke was bullied at school, so he switched high schools, but I think it just made things worse. He's got no friends, and I think he's still bullied, although God knows what for."

"He's in the 12th grade, yeah?" Sam nodded. "Then he's probably feeling a lot of university pressure, and I'm sure he's stressing out over what his future's going to be like. Does he know what he wants to do?"

"Uh, I think he wants to go into science, like Mom and Dad," Sam picked at her lip. "But I don't think he's got the grades to do it."

"Then that's probably contributing to his illness."

"It certainly makes sense," Sam raised her eyebrows, flipping on the air conditioning in the car. "And last but not least, I do believe he's worried about me. He's been taking the overprotective-brother act to an unhealthy, almost obsessive level."

"What, all because he doesn't like Steve?"

"That, and he's worried about me being an Avenger. He doesn't want me putting myself in danger or something," she rolled her eyes.

"Well, judging by the things you've been telling Tony and Steve, I'd say that you don't either-"

"Shut up, Natasha," Sam looked at me sharply. There was an awkward silence, before Sam said, "He hates Steve because he thinks it's his fault I'm an Avenger. He thinks Steve is the only reason I'm staying."

"Well, isn't he?" I asked, fiddling with my seat warmer.

"He was," Sam chewed her lip. "But I honestly have no idea anymore."

We arrived at the airport, and only had a little while longer to wait before Luke's plane landed. When he off-loaded, Sam rushed up to him, throwing her arms around her brother and hugging him fiercely.

Luke was a tall boy, probably about the same height as Steve, and although he was younger than Sam he towered over her. They had the same wavy blonde hair and the same face, although Luke's blue eyes were different from Sam's grey ones. Otherwise, they had the same lean and thin build; the same long legs and toned stomaches.

Luke awkwardly tried to push his sister off him, but Sam kept an iron grip, hugging the life out of him. When she finally let go, she grabbed Luke's luggage and dragged it over to where I was standing, her eyes watering a bit and her mascara smudged.

"Luke, this is Natasha Romanoff. Tasha, this is my brother Luke."

"Nice to meet you," I said, my eyes cool and calculating as I shook his hand.

"Are you the . . . Black Widow?" he raised an eyebrow, his voice surprisingly deep despite his angelic, slightly feminine features.

"The original," I nodded, cracking a slight smile as we walked back to the car.

"That's _awesome_," Luke said. "You know, my dad injected me with a formula too, just like Sam."

"Uh, no, he didn't-" she tried to cut in.

"It made _all_ of my muscles bigger," Luke finished, winking at me. "The Tesseract isn't the only thing that can show you what you never knew before."

Sam slapped a hand to her forehead.

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Well, I can handle more than just two pistols at once," I smirked back.

Luke grinned. "I know a lot about guns, and let me say, mine is pretty lethal."

"Is that an SVN-98 12.7 x 108mm Caliber bolt action sniper in your pants or are you just happy to see me?"

He blinked slowly. Sam pulled on her hair, groaning. Eventually, Luke came back with a Thor pick-up line: "I may be a demi-god, but you're a full-out goddess."

I snorted. "That was pathetic." We reached the car, and after Luke expressed delight at the fact that his sister was driving a Maserati, he climbed into the backseat; I got passenger. "Here's one for Spider-Man: I'm not so itsy-bitsy under my Spidey suit." Sam made a face as she backed out of the parking lot and began to drive back to her place in Brooklyn.

"Don't worry, that isn't web fluid," Luke retorted, throwing in another wink.

"Doth thy mother know I removeth thy drapes?"

"I'll make your arc react."

"Oh, so we're doing Iron Man ones now?" I raised my eyebrows. "With me, you'll never have to sleep in the dark."

"The suit's made out of a gold-titanium alloy. The 'iron' is referring to something else."

"The longest arrow I have isn't in my quiver."

"I'll show you why they call me Fury."

"My birthday is the fourth of July," Sam cut in. "I bet I can make you see fireworks." Luke's expression darkened, and there was an awkward silence. "What? No one likes Captain America pick-up lines?"

"What've you got against him?" I asked, turning awkwardly in my seat to look at Luke.

"Yeah, why do you like Tasha, and not Steve?"

"Well, for one, Natasha's a lot sexier," Luke said.

I frowned. "I'll have you know I am _way_ too old for you."

"Older women are hot."

"But older men aren't?" Sam looked at Luke in the rear-view mirror. "Just because Steve was born in the twenties doesn't mean he's a stuffy old man. If anything, it just means he's more of a gentleman."

"I don't care," Luke looked out the window angrily.

"Oh, shit. Speaking of Steve, I should probably tell him . . ." Sam trailed off, glancing back at Luke. "Hey, Lukie, um . . ."

I turned forward in my seat again, sincerely hoping Sam wouldn't freak out and get us all killed if she had an anger attack while driving. I should've asked to borrow one of Banner's temporary antidotes.

"I kinda live with Steve now," Sam said in a rush, eager to just get the words out. Luke's head snapped forward, and he looked at his sister with wide eyes.

"So I'm coming to live with you . . . with your boyfriend," he said slowly.

"It's Steve's place, I very well can't kick him out!" her voice was shrill. She took a deep, calming breath, shutting her eyes briefly while we were stopped at a red light. "It could be good for you to actually get to know him, too. He's a really nice guy, Lukie."

"I don't _want_ to stay-"

"You have no choice," Sam said, struggling to keep her voice calm; she took another deep breath, trying really hard not to let her instability get the best of her. "I'm trying to help you."

"Then come back to Chicago." She shook her head silently. "Well, you know what, this is bullshit. I can get a motel room or something myself-"

I turned to look at Sam's brother. "No, Luke, I really do think you should stay with Sam and Steve," I said, my voice firm. "At least _try_ to accept the life choices she's made. She has a lot of problems and inner demons too, okay? So leave her alone. Basically the only good thing is Sam's life is her relationship with Steve, and she doesn't need you shitting all over that, too."

Luke was quiet, and Sam looked at me sharply. "A bit harsh, Nat," she said under her breath, "but thanks."

We drove for a while, before coming upon another stoplight; whilst there, Sam checked her cell phone screen. "Crap, I've got three missed calls from Steve," she said, re-dialing his number and holding the phone up to her ear. After a bit, she put it down again: "That's just like him, to call a billion times and then not answer when I respond," she sighed.

"You two got anything planned for Christmas?" I asked.

"I think we're just gonna head over to Avengers Tower. You?"

"That's my plan, so long as I'm not away on a mission."

"Tasha, do you think I should be worried about that crush Carol Dangers has on him?"

"No," I scoffed. "Don't be rediculous. Steve is in love with you, Sam, I'm telling you, even if you can't see it."

She blushed. "You think?"

"I know. I'm a spy. I knew everything," I smiled.

"Wait! I've got another one! A Loki one!" Luke interrupted. ". . . I'm horny, and I'm not referring to my headgear."

This time, I couldn't help but burst out laughing.

* * *

**Author's Note: Weo. Hey guys. I'm so sorry that this update took forever - I had the worst school week all year and didn't even have enough time to _sleep_, let alone write. I'm back now, though, and I'm sorry :3 I'll try to get better. This chapter was so hard to write, you have no idea O_o**

**I'm done with the Sam fights now, guys. Absolutely finished with Tony and Steve analyzing all the messed-up things she's been saying. Just you so you know ;)**

**BIG NEWS: The Avengers need another female on the team, don't you think? I'm going to go ahead and assume that most of the people reading this story are girls ;) So, I want you all to help me decide who should be the next superheroine! They won't come in until next story, but I want to start planning now. **

**I've decided they should be a mutant, so we can get some diversity in here :) and I've narrowed it down to three choices: the White Queen (Emma Frost), Rogue (Anna Marie), and the Scarlet Witch (Wanda Maximoff). If you have any other suggestions that you really think should be up here, please let me know in a review. **

**A short background on the girls: Emma Frost is a total bitch, who is telekinetic and can form a diamond skin. She's not one of those characters who's still trying to find themselves, like every other character you read about in literature nowadays. No, Emma knows who she is. And that person is a bitch.**

**Rogue, who was featured heavily in the X-Men movies, can absorb other people's powers and memories by touch. She's a Southern belle, and has a close relationship with Wolverine. Also - Rogue and Ms. Marvel hate one another :)**

**The Scarlet Witch is probably the least well-known of these three, but she's the only one who's actually been an Avenger. She's the über-powerful daughter of Magneto, with hex and reality-warping powers (called chaos magic). In the comics, she singlehandedly killed off 99% of all mutants with just three words. Oh, and she's also highly mentally unstable. **

**To vote, go to my profile: there's a poll up there. Seriously, guys, I would really appreciate it. I'd love to know who you think would make a great Avenger in the next story :) and thank you for your time!**

**Extra thanks to the patient reviewers: _smkelover, ClarinetRox88, brandibuckeye, GoForTehGig, Comiccrazygothgirl, LianaDare8, littlethingsbyonedirection, MysticRyter, InLoveWithTheRogue, Amore 2210 . loves . fanfic, erica . phoenix 16, Tbonechick2011, roxxirox, CeffylGwyn, Awareness_ and_ Shadow Realm Triforce_! You guys made this stressful week a bit easier to handle, what with all the kind words. I can never thank you all enough :)**

**Thank you again to everyone who's reading! Please forgive me for the long wait, and leave a review, telling me what you thought. Also, don't forget to vote on my profile! READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	11. Strange Creatures

Steve Rogers' POV – Silver Flames XI

_What strange creatures brothers are!_

_- Jane Austen_

"Hey, Steve! I'm home! You didn't pick up your phone when I tried to call you-"

"_Wait! _Don't turn on the lights!"

"What?"

"Don't turn on the lights, I'm not ready yet!"

Sam turned on the lights.

"No, no, wait," I said, rushing around the kitchen, frantically putting things away. I hit a different light switch than the one Sam had, but it turned off the same light. We were quickly flooded by darkness.

"What the hell are you doing, Stevie?" she asked, shrugging out of her winter coat and taking off her hat. "I've been out all day, but I tried to call you, and-" she flicked the lights on again.

"_No!_" I lunged for the switch, turning them off once more. "Give me one minute, honey, I'm not ready yet," I hurried into the dining room.

"Why'd you call earlier?" she asked, groping around in the closet for a hanger to put her coat on. Sam was on the other side of the flat as me, as our kitchen was at the back and she had just come in the front door, but she had tried to turn on the hall light – the one that illuminated the dining room and living room.

I stopped in my tracks, smiling at her shyly, and I know she could see it through the darkness. "Because I wanted to talk to you."

Her eyebrows creased. "That's it?"

"Yeah . . ."

"You just wanted to talk?"

"Hmm. Yes. I missed you."

Her face broke into a smile. "Steve, that's the cutest thing you've ever done."

"Want to bet?" I asked, putting the finishing touches on the display and finally turning on the lights. "I made – look. I planned out an evening for us to spend together," I said, stepping back. "I made dinner. It's not much, it's just homemade pizza, but – but I made chocolate fondue for dessert." Her jaw dropped. "And then – and then, I figured out how to use the PVR on the television all by myself, and I recorded _It's a Wonderful Life,_ since, you know, it's a Christmas movie, and you've always said it's your favorite. I made popcorn, and there's a blanket, and I cleaned the flat-"

Sam threw her arms around me in a crushing hug, before pulling me down into a deep kiss. My eyes were open in surprise, but by the time I realized what had happened she pulled back, staring at me intensely with her grey eyes.

"This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me," she said, looking a little shocked. "I – my God, Steve. Thank you so, so much. Jesus, how did you get to be so perfect? It's not fair, you're setting my standards too high!" Her cheeks were rosy and her nose red, probably from the cold outside, but I could see the warmth in her eyes and smile. "You're too sweet. I don't deserve this, especially with how I've been acting lately and all, and yet you still find the time, what with all your Captain America duties . . ."

"Sam," I said, taking her hands in mine, "please don't worry about it. I did this because – because I lov-"

"There's something I _really _need to talk to you about, though," her eyes darkened. "Like, right now. You weren't picking up your phone, so I couldn't get to you earlier."

I frowned, sensing the tension in her voice. "What is it?" But even though the subject had been changed, my mind couldn't help but linger on what I was about to say. "I love you". I had finally decided it was the right time to tell her, because I really was in love with her, and I didn't want to lose her again. The only thing that had inspired me to tell her was the memory of something Peggy said to me last year: she'd told me not to hold back with Sam, because I was afraid of getting too close and then losing her. No, instead, Peggy told me to give my relationship with her my all, because I knew better than anyone how easily everything could be taken away.

Had Sam cut me off, though? Had she known what I was going to say? It didn't seem like she could have, but her interruption had been so perfectly timed. Did Sam not _want _me to say it? I wouldn't get offended if she didn't say "I love you" back – I didn't care if it wasn't mutual. Maybe she just didn't realize that, and she didn't want to be put in that awkward position.

She let go of my hands so she could tug at her hair. "Um, well. Y'see. It's . . . kinda my brother. Well, not kinda, it _is _my brother. He's got depression. Again," she sucked in a breath. "Suicidal thoughts and all. Mom shipped him off on a plane to, well, to here without asking me first – she wants Luke to stay with me for a while, try and help him get better or something."

"Your mother didn't realize we live together, did she?"

Sam grimaced. "No. I'm sorry, Steve. Is it okay if-?"

"If Luke stays here for a bit? Yeah, that's fine. Don't worry about it, honey," I said, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek. "I'd love to get to know your brother more."

"He still doesn't like you. But you'll show him what he's missing out on, right, Stevie?" she said, looking over the fondue.

"Why does your mother want _you _to help him? I mean no offence, but wouldn't a psychologist be better?"

She ignored me. "I've already picked him up in the airport and all; he's down in the Maserati with Tasha. I just wanted to come up here and check with you, first."

I grabbed my coat and shoes from the closet, and helped Sam into her jacket again. "Trust me, it's fine. Can I help carry his luggage up?"

We stepped out of the flat, shutting the door behind us. "Even if I say no, you're going to do it anyway," she smiled good-naturedly. I grabbed her hand as we walked to the staircase, since the building we lived in didn't have an elevator.

Down on the street, it had begun to snow again; Sam and I walked over to the car, which was parked by the curb, holding hands. Our breath made clouds in the air as Sam tapped on the passenger window, and Tasha got the hint to unlock the car doors.

Luke got out of the backseat, looking every bit like a pissed-off – but male – Samantha. He didn't even glance at me, and instead just pulled his suitcase out of the car in a rushed motion. It tumbled to the snowy sidewalk, and I caught it with one hand before it could land in a snowy puddle. I sat it back upright and gave it to the young man, and he took it without a thank you. Storming off, Luke tried to pull open the doors to our building. It was locked, just like any normal apartment – you needed a key to get into the lobby – so he stood sulking in the snow.

"Hey, Tashie, can you take the Maserati back to Tony's?" Sam asked, opening the Russian's door and peering in.

Natasha hissed. "You're letting the cold in, Sam."

"Sorry," she stumbled back.

"I can take it back, sure, but I kind of need the car keys," Natasha held out her hand, hiding behind the car door. Sam fished around in her pocket for them, eventually pulling them out and dropping them in Nat's open hand. "You want me to let Tony and the others know what's going on?"

"Sure, that'd be nice. Thanks."

"Good luck with your brother," Natasha replied. "He's going to be a handful. You two need anything, just call, okay?"

"Whoa, Natasha's being kind and helpful? What're the other signs of the apocalypse?"

Rather than getting snippy, Nat smiled. "Now you're sounding more like the Sam I love."

She pulled away, and we joined Luke at the doorway; pulling out my key card, I unlocked it and held the door open for the siblings. Sam smiled at me gratefully, but Luke gave me the cold shoulder. It would take a while to get through to him, I knew that now.

He stormed ahead of us, and Sam let go of my hand so she could run after him. "Lukie, wait. Please," she said in a pleading voice, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. "Please, try to calm down. I'm here to help you, you know that. But I can't do it if you ignore me."

"I don't need help," he said stubbornly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Luke, you know-" she glanced back at me awkwardly, and then whispered something in her brother's ear. I headed up the stairs to our flat, trying to give them some space, but couldn't help but wonder – was there something Sam was keeping from me?

"We should go out tomorrow, yeah? I can show you around New York City, take you up the Empire State Building, if you want . . . we can visit Times Square, or Grand Central Station," I heard her say as I climbed another staircase; their footsteps echoed after mine.

"I don't want to go out, Sam, I kinda just want to stay in. It doesn't appeal to me," Luke sighed.

"You got any good books to read?"

"I have a few Batman comics, but they're alright . . ."

"TV? No, wait, that'll probably just make you feel worse. Like a couch potato." I reached our flat and entered, holding open the door for them a few moments later. "You should at least exercise. Exercise is good for depression . . ."

"What about spending the day with Tony Stark?" I asked, locking the door behind us. "I'm sure he'd be happy to drag you around, spending money on everything he thinks you don't need."

"Ehh. I don't know," Luke rolled his suitcase into the dining room. "Whoa, who made the chocolate fountain?!"

"One of the symptoms of depression is that you don't feel any enthusiasm for activities, even ones that you used to enjoy," Sam whispered in my ear as she walked past me, brushing my hand. "Steve made it. And homemade pizza. Plus, he set up a movie. You can join us if you want . . ."

He gazed longingly at the chocolate fountain. "Where's my room?" he asked instead, changing the subject. Sam pointed down the hall to what we usually used as a storage room, although it did have a bed in it. Luckily, I had cleaned it today-

"Why is your stupid Captain America shield in my room?" Luke called out. Although he knew I was Cap, I couldn't help but look at Sam with startled eyes. Her brother picked it up and flung it Frisbee-style down the hall, like I did when I used it as a weapon – except it took a certain level of skill to actually wield the shield. Skill that Luke did not have.

First, it bounced off the floor lamp, shot into the living room, rebounded against the couch, nearly took Sam's head off, banged against the painting in the dining room, and then lodged itself in the wall. Luke's face was bright red as he walked into the dining room and tried to pull it out, but it was wedged so far in that countless tugs and grunts didn't even budge it an inch. He looked over at me helplessly, so I walked over and pulled it out myself with little effort, on the first try.

"Sorry," Luke said shamefully, looking up at me with tired eyes. I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to console him, but he took a step back out of my reach.

"Don't worry about it. You didn't hurt anyone. My shield's dangerous, though – you've got to be careful with it."

"I think I'm just going to go to bed," he said, his voice soft.

"You don't want any fondue?" I replied, looking over at the chocolate fountain sitting on the table.

"No, you two enjoy it," he said bitterly. "I'm sure my sister wants to get you alone now, anyway."

"_Luke_!" Sam's voice was shrill and embarrassed.

"Well, let's face it: she's not exactly the chastest of all girls."

Sam's face went bright red. "That is _quite_-"

"Just sayin', I know what you were doing with Mark in that bedroom at Dana's birthday party," he said, holding up his hands and grinning at the discomfort that had brewed in the room. "And the fact that you and your new boyfriend are living together now certainly speaks volumes."

"Fine, just go to bed," Sam crossed her arms over her chest, not even bothering to correct him. "Pervert."

"Slut!"

I turned to Sam, afraid she'd be freaking out and having an anger meltdown, but to my surprise she was perfectly calm, if a bit pale. "Luke, I don't understand, will you please explain to me why you're so against Steve?!" she changed the subject.

"I never said I was-"

"You didn't need to."

Luke sucked in a sharp breath, glaring at me. "You're only staying in the Avengers because of him."

She nodded slowly, taking measured breaths. "That's what I thought. What's so wrong with being in the Avengers?"

"You're going to die."

I shook my head and spoke up. "Not with me around, or even the rest of us, like Tony. Luke, I know you don't trust easily. I know you're worried about your sister. But believe me when I say she's in safe hands. We're taking care of her both physically and mentally – it was Tony and Clint who helped her get through her depression back when she was in Rome. And she's accepted that with her powers comes a responsibility. She can help the greater good, she can make this world a better place, and she's learning to live with that-"

"That's it, I'm going to bed," Luke threw up his hands, eyes blazing. "Sweet dreams," he said sarcastically, walking to his room and slamming the door shut.

Sam collapsed into a chair as soon as he was gone. "I'm so sorry, Stevie-"

I sensed the need for a change of subject. "You still want to have dinner and watch a movie?"

She sighed. "Dinner would be great, yeah, but I think I just need to go to bed after. I'm sorry. I know you had this wonderful night planned out-"

"No, shh, it's okay. We can do it some other time, when things have calmed down."

She laughed darkly. "Calmed down, yeah. Sure. As if that's going to happen anytime soon." Sam looked up at me with wide eyes. "You missed an Avengers meeting today."

"How come no one contacted me?!"

"You didn't pick up your damn phone, babe," she pulled herself back into a standing position, grabbing a plate from the kitchen and covering it with pizza; I did the same. "We talked about Namor's weapons – some madbomb thing, I'm not really too sure – and Amora the Enchantress."

My eyebrows creased. "Isn't Amora . . .?"

"My new bestest friend, yeah," Sam rolled her eyes. "She's been looking to kidnap me because I'm Tony Stark's daughter or something stupid like that." I poured us each a glass of milk. "Now Tony wants to use that to our advantage and actually let me be kidnapped _on purpose_, fun, right? So I can go in there and do a bunch of spy work or something."

I blanched. "I won't let you do that."

"Why? I mean, his plan isn't actually that bad."

"It's terrible! It's _way_ too dangerous, and we have no guarantee that you would come out safe."

"I have powers, dumbass, and I'm not afraid to use them," she sung.

"Yeah, but they're highly unstable right now!" I said. She was quiet. "I will _not _let you put yourself in that much danger. I'll talk to Tony, or something-"

"See, I _told _you the Avengers are going to make you die!" a voice sounded from the hallway, and we turned to see Luke standing there in his pajamas. "That's a _stupid _plan!"

"That's what I'm saying! Sam, you're not going out there alone. If anything, I'll do it, I don't want to send you into anything without knowing the possible outcome-"

"Oh, will you two just leave me alone! I can take care of myself," she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm out. You people are crazy," Luke muttered, grabbing his jacket and slipping into his boots. Sam sprung into action, lunging forward to grab him, but he shook her off. "Piss off, Samantha. You're just as much of the problem as _he _is," he glared at me, and then walked out, slamming the door shut.

"Luke, you get your ass back here _right now!" _Sam yelled, chasing him down into the lobby. I shrugged into my coat, scarf and shoes, trailing behind.

"Let me take care of this, Sam," I kissed her quickly on the lips as I walked out of the building; she watched me in shock. Outside, it had begun to snow even harder, and the sheets of white in the air obscured my vision. "_Luke!_" I called out, but there was no answer. Good thing I had great vision, then. I could see him storming off down the street to my left.

I jogged after the teen, coming up beside him. We walked in silence for a bit, and he didn't tell me to piss off, which I considered a positive sign. Most likely, the cold and the silence were helping him to calm down, and see it from someone else's point of view. In all honesty, I was planning on spending the whole walk in a cocoon of dead quiet. But things never go how you plan them, do they? I'm Captain America. I always have to come up with inspiring words.

"I know these are dark, and even desperate times for you," I started; he shifted uncomfortably by my side, angling away from me, but I went on. "I know that you're afraid, Luke, not only for yourself, but also for your sister. It's all right – it's perfectly natural. But I want you to know that _I am not _afraid for Sam." I knew I could've turned it into a speech about his depression – but that wasn't my place. I needed to start small.

"Where do you get off thinking that?" he asked, his voice deep.

I sighed. "Look. I am not afraid to die as an Avenger because what I do is _necessary. _It may seem impossible – our enemies may appear to be endless . . . but that doesn't matter – because there is _no one else._" He looked up at me. "I believe in an idea . . . an idea that a single individual who has the right heart and the right mind . . . that is _consumed _with a single purpose . . . that _one man _can win a war."

"You've been through a war, haven't you?"

"Yes. I know what I'm talking about. I've been through _too many _wars. I've seen things in this century that first happened during World War Two, and were never supposed to happen again. These things tear me apart: when I went under, the war was on the battlefields. Now, it's on the streets. But give that _one man _a group of soldiers with the same conviction – and you can _change the world. _Now, you know where I can find some men like that?"

". . . You mean the Avengers?"

I smirked. "You don't have to worry about your sister, Luke. She's not on this earth to witness history. She's here to make it. No matter where her path takes her."

My phone rang and I pulled it out, expecting it to be Sam, but I found instead that it was Tony himself who was calling. Or, Tony's number. It was Jarvis the butler on the other line.

"Hello?"

"Yes, I'm looking for a Captain Steven Rogers?"

"Speaking."

"This is Edwin Jarvis, Tony Stark's assistant," he said, his voice very proper. "I have been instructed to inform you of what Tony describes as a 'crazy psycho scaring hobos into burning down a building' near to your location."

"I don't have my shield . . ."

"Miss Silverman has already been contacted and is on her way to your location with the proper materials."

"So . . . Avengers business?"

"Avengers business," he confirmed, hanging up.

Luke looked at me dubiously. "Avengers business?"

"Burning building. Something about a psycho," I explained briefly, looking down at my phone screen as Jarvis sent a message with the location to me. "I'm sorry, Luke, but I need to take care of this."

"That's alright."

Sam ran up soon afterwards. "Goddammit Steve, we need a car," she huffed, carrying my shield in one hand and my boots in the other – I was already wearing my suit underneath my street clothes. Sam was dressed as Masquerade, too, from the purple knee-high boots to the black bodysuit with one arm, and from the belt and gloves to the Venetian masquerade mask. Luke stared at his sister in astonishment, barely able to believe his eyes. "Shall we be off?" she passed me my stuff. I quickly slipped out of my pants, leather jacket and street shoes, and to my surprise, Luke took them from me.

"I'll put them back in the flat," he said softly. "You – wanna give me the key, so I can get back in?"

"It's in the left jacket pocket," I said, strapping my shield to my back and taking Sam's hand. "Don't get lost."

"Don't die," he tried to crack a joke, and then turned on his heel and left abruptly.

Sam watched his back recede through the snowstorm, her grey eyes bright. "What happened between you two?"

"Nothing much, actually," I shrugged, a bit confused myself. "I'll explain later. Let's go."

The fire was in an apartment building a few blocks away, and as I found out later, there were three more deliberate fires in occupied buildings, all in different parts of the city; the other Avengers were dealing with them. "Jarvis told you it was some psycho, right?" Sam asked, approaching apprehensively.

"Yeah . . ." I trailed off, flipping my helmet up over my head so that my mask was on, covering my face. "But Jarvis said that it was homeless people whom they had convinced to do the work for them."

"So – no hurting people, at least not permanently. Right?"

"Right." I lead the way through the open front door of the building, shield-first, but there were multiple people outside distracting Sam – civilians who had escaped. She tried to talk to them briefly and assure them that everything was all right, but it was useless. One look at the building and you could tell it was done for: the roof had already caved in, and the whole thing was ablaze.

"You remember what Bruce said back in the lab?" I yelled at her as she followed me up a set of stairs; my foot went crashing right through a step, but I was able to hoist myself back up easily.

"You're honestly thinking of that right now?!"

"He said," I went on, "that he bet if you tried you could douse any oxygen-based flame by depriving it of oxygen."

We reached the first floor of the building, and she looked at me as if I was crazy. "You honestly want me to try that _right now_?!"

"Wouldn't hurt," I shrugged, bounding up the next flight of stairs.

"It might," she admitted, following me and dodging a beam falling from the ceiling. "I'm unstable, and we don't know if it could backlash . . ."

We made it to the fifth floor before Sam began to cough from too much smoke inhalation, and I've got to admit, it was a miracle we had already made it that far. The heat in the building was so intense that I was sweating buckets, and believe me, I don't sweat often. I wasn't coughing like Sam yet because the super-soldier serum had given me a better set of lungs, too, but eventually the smoke would get to me. Good thing we had backup.

"There's a respirator built into your utility belt," I said, pointing at one of the pockets on the purple belt around her waist, as I reached down and put my own on while I had the chance.

"Really?" she asked, astonished, and then followed my lead and attached hers to her face.

"Have you ever even _looked_ at your utility belt?"

A dark shape came up behind Sam and I kicked out, catching the attacker underneath the chin and sending them back. We were ambushed by three men, all at the same time – but we weren't fighting criminals or arsonists. We were up against homeless men. Sam had been right. I'd seen some pretty low things during my time in New York City, but someone using people who have nothing to hurt other people who have nothing? It's infuriating. Someone, whoever was behind those attacks tonight, was scary enough to make the homeless people face the fire. Scary enough to make them face _me_. And I was determined to find out who it was.

"WAHHHHHHHHH!" something shrieked in another part of a building. Sam's head jerked up at the sound, but I ignored it as I knocked a crowbar out of an attacker's hand. I grabbed his wrist and flipped him over my head, using my shield at the same time to knock down a different man. The third one came at me, fists raised, but I jumped up and kicked him in the chest with both feet, sending him flying back.

"WAAAAAA!" Sam noticed a beam coming loose from the ceiling and pushed it up with wind, grabbing a hold of the first homeless man and moving him out of the way before she let the beam come crashing down. A different attacker retrieved the first's crowbar and attempted to smash Sam's head in from behind, but she elbowed him in the nose with extreme force and then turned to punch him in the gut. Before he could fall over, she flipped him over her back, straight into the first man.

"WAAAAAAH!" The sound continued incessantly, and although it agitated Sam, I couldn't figure out what it was. The blood rushed through my ears as I picked up the first man by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

"Who are you working for?" I asked, as he trembled beneath me. When the man didn't respond, I slammed him again; the wall began to break. "I asked you a question! _Who are you working for_?"

"WAAAAHHH!"

"W-we. Huh. We don't know, really-"

"Not good enough," I said, throwing him across the floor, into the second man. "You want to try this again?"

"WAAAAAAAA!"

"She wouldn't tell us who she was!" the second man cowered. "Or why we were doing this! But she threatened us, man, I'm telling you, don't hurt me, but she was so scary . . . so psychotic, I'm telling you, she was crazy upstairs . . ."

"She?" I asked, leaning over him.

"She was scary as hell, sir, I – I mean, terrorist sort of material. But that's all I know, I swear on my mama's grave-"

"Enough," Sam cried, fighting the third man. "All right," she roundhouse kicked him in the head. "Stop. Just stop," she ripped the hammer out of his hands. "I said _enough_." She grabbed his fist as he went to hit her, held him in place, and kneed him in the chest.

"WAHHHH!"

"There's a baby crying. You hear that?" she said, and the strange noise finally made sense to me. How had I overlooked that before?! "That means you guys aren't a priority. Can you get out of here alive?"

I shook my head. "I'll take care of them. You get the baby, Masquerade."

She looked in the direction of the wailing noise, recognizing that it was in a room completely covered in flame. "I'm going to need to borrow your shield."

"Just don't throw it, like your brother," I winked, passing it to her.

Sam used it to smash right through the burning wall as I helped up the three men at my feet. "What did this woman look like? Was she blonde?" I asked, thinking of the Enchantress.

"We dunno, we didn't see her," the first man began to cough. "Please, mister, just let us go-"

"Did she talk in a funny way? Like Thor?"

A few burning rooms over, Sam found the wailing baby – and its mother. "Please," the young woman pleaded. "Help her . . . help my baby. Don't let her die."

"The mask won't fit her mouth," Sam tried to explain, taking off her respirator and attempting to give it to the mother. "You must take it."

Back on my side of things, the three men looked at me as if I was crazy. "Nah. German accent, I think."

"No, 'twas Southern," the third argued, rubbing his head where Sam had hit him.

"German and southern!" the first announced.

"Did she use magic of any kind? To threaten you?" I asked, corralling them to the staircase.

"No. Just guns and knives. So many guns and knives," one of them said, his eyes wide; the other two shuddered.

"Thank you for your help, gentlemen," I responded, pushing them towards the stairs. "Can you make it out of here alive?"

"I – I think so," the biggest of the three said, trying to support his friend, who was badly hurt.

Close by, "No . . . no. Save her. My child . . ." I overheard the young mother saying to Sam, who muttered an "Oh, man" under her breath.

"Okay. You hold her, and I hold you. Do you understand?"

"I . . . understand," the mother said, finally putting on Sam's respirator.

"Hold her tight. What's your name?"

"Sharon."

"Good to know you, Sharon."

The building shuddered, and in front of me, the entire staircase and ceiling caved. I barely managed to catch one of the homeless men as it fell, the flames licking at the wood and carpeting; the other two scrambled up to help me, clinging to my feet desperately. One of them began praying. Now that they were under my watchful eye – now that they weren't so afraid of this psycho woman who _didn't_ sound like the Enchantress, all because they realized I was there to _help_ – they were finally showing fear.

"Come on," I said, helping them to their feet and closer to the side of the building. From there, I found, I could kick out a window and leap onto a neighboring building's roof – it was lower than where we were now.

I didn't end up having the time. "Coming through!" Sam shouted, barreling towards the window shield-first, trying to work up enough momentum. She was holding the woman, Sharon, against her body in an iron grip, and in Sharon's arms was a baby girl wrapped up in a blanket. They went crashing through the window in a large mess of smoke, glass and flames, but Sam manoeuvred my shield well enough to be able to use it to protect her and the civilians. They rolled onto the neighboring roof, Sam using her body to cushion the others' fall.

"Show-off," I muttered under my breath, reminded of how I didn't just love Sam, I loved Masquerade, too. "All right, boys. Let's go," I helped the old men to jump across the gap between the buildings. The fire department had finally arrived, and upon seeing us leaping from building to building, they deployed ladders up to us.

Sam helped the woman and her baby all the way down the ladder, talking to them calmingly; I just turned the homeless people over to law enforcement. They'd know what to do with those poor men better than I would.

"God bless you, Masquerade," the woman with Sam was saying when I walked towards them. "Bless you. Bless you. You saved my daughter. Bless you, Masquerade."

"Hey, Cap," Sam nodded when she saw me. "Here's your shield back," she handed it over. "Thanks." She had soot in her hair and black streaks of smoke down her face, alongside a few burns and singes, but other than a nasty cheek wound from the window glass, she was fine.

Sharon looked at me with wide eyes when I arrived. "Captain America?"

"Just doing our duty, ma'am," I nodded, taking Sam's hand. Sharon looked down at it, and then back up at Sam.

"You two are really still together?"

Sam smiled, her teeth blindingly white against the dark color her face had turned. "Ever since that famous Central Park kiss? Yep. And before then, too." I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek for emphasis.

Sharon smiled through her traumatized tears. "Bless you. Bless you both."

* * *

We made it back to the apartment in good time, although we had to enter through the window to avoid being seen – Captain America and Masquerade entering a normal apartment building that _wasn't _on fire wasn't a very good way to keep our identities secret, after all.

Luke was in the dining room, pigging out on the chocolate fondue that he had previously tried to avoid. He got one glimpse of us, and his jaw dropped open. "Wow," he couldn't help but say. "Wow."

"I'm going to have a shower," Sam ducked her head as I propped my shield up by the couch. She rushed into my bedroom and, through that, into my bathroom. Luke and I watched her go, and I noted the sooty footprints she left on the carpet.

I turned to face Sam's brother awkwardly as he stuffed his mouth with a chocolate-covered strawberry. "So," he said slowly, talking with his mouth full. "You're pretty dirty, too."

I shrugged.

"You gonna go join Sam in the shower?" Luke smirked. "Don't lie to me. I know it's crossed your mind. I saw you staring at her ass."

"Actually, I was looked at her _feet_," I put down my hood, running my fingers through my hair. Luke grabbed a marshmallow from the table and drowned it in chocolate, before sticking it in his mouth.

"Aw, c'mon. You Avengers people must be having some sort of kinky sex."

It took me a while to process his words, but once I did, I frowned. "Excuse me, Luke, but you've got it wrong. I am _not_ the sort of person to take advantage of your sister or to compromise her honor, and I cannot believe that you would even think that your sister might let me do something like that in the first place. I respect her. Plus, I come from a time when men did not constantly think about sexual relationships, as seems to be the norm nowadays. I'll have you know Sam and I have done nothing like that which you are suggesting."

Luke chewed slowly, scrutinizing me. He swallowed, stared at me for a few more minutes, and then turned to grab and peel a banana. "Whoa, calm down, dude. I didn't mean any offence."

"I'm sorry. I'm just tired of people assuming what's going on in our flat."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, your loss."

"What do you mean?"

He finished peeling the banana and stuck it under the waves of the chocolate fountain. "I'm not going to lie, my sister's hot. You're missing out, Cap."

My brain stumbled over the fact he had called me "Cap". And then – were Luke and I actually having a real conversation?! About my sexual relationship with his _sister_?!

"She's a rather physical person. She likes her kisses and hugs," he said, taking a bite of the banana. "So if what you tell me is true, and you two aren't really doing much of that . . . then I guess she must really like you, Cap, if she's sticking around. You mean something to her," he looked down.

"You can call me Steve," I said softly.

"Nah, I like Cap," Luke looked up and grinned. "Makes me feel special, since I know Captain America himself."

I took a seat at the dining room table, helping myself to a marshmallow and covering it in chocolate. "Yeah, well, about what you said . . . recently, Sam's gotten a bit jittery. She talked to me about how I don't really initiate contact much."

Luke snorted. "That sounds like my sister. Always wanting more than she's getting."

"Yeah? She's been acting a little funny lately," I sighed.

He shook his head. "Meh, she does that sometimes. Gets down on herself. But the thing you can always rely on with her," he shook his finger, "is that she likes to do things without thinking about the possible outcome. She's very spontaneous. You seem to be the opposite of that."

"You're right. I like going into things when I know how they're most likely going to end. But we balance each other out that way."

Luke chewed on his lip, and then slammed his hands down on the table. "Well, I'm going to bed. If you two do end up having sex, try to keep it down, will ya?" he winked, and I shook my head, smiling.

"Nice talking to you, Luke."

He turned to face me as he walked out, pointing at my face. "Now, don't go thinking I like you any more than I did before, you got it? We're still not on good terms."

"Whatever you say," I leaned back in my chair. "Sleep well."

He had barely been gone for five minutes when Sam came clattering out of our room in a panic. I stood immediately, noticing her pale face and wide eyes – and the fact that she was in her bra and pajama pants.

"Is everything all right?" I asked, worried. The urge to avert my eyes was strong, but Sam had been the one to come to me like this, so I quelled it, deciding she must've been comfortable with me seeing her like that.

"No, I was showering and – look!" she twisted her body around, and I saw a chunk of glass as long and wide as a small bouncy ball cutting into her shoulder blade. There was a watery trail of blood running down her back. "I didn't feel it before," her voice was panicked, "but it must have happened when I jumped out of that window, since I was breaking all that glass but my back was totally exposed and _Steve, it's bleeding everywhere_-"

"Okay, okay. Just calm down," I said in a soft voice, knowing that if _I_ was calm, it would help her, too. I turned to knock on Luke's door, because unfortunately, it was our storage room – and thus, the first aid kit was in there.

"Come in," Luke mocked an old woman's voice, and I opened the door to find him lying on his bed, reading a Batman comic. He caught a glimpse of his shirtless sister in the hallway, and winked at me; I sighed, shaking my head no. Grabbing the first aid kit, I headed back out and shut the door gently behind me.

"You washed it out when you were in the shower, right?" I asked, and she nodded silently. I led Sam over to a chair in the dining room, sitting her down firmly.

"This will probably sting," I said, pulling out a bottle of alcoholic disinfectant and pouring it on the wound. Sam hissed, squeezing her eyes shut and baring her teeth and I wiped up the excess liquid with a cloth.

"There are a few little shards embedded near the big one," I peered at the wound. "You're alright with me taking them out? Or do you want to go to a hospital?"

"No, just take them out, Stevie," she said. "It's just this one spot where there's glass. My suit protects me, but since I have this one shoulder cut out, well, you know . . . it's completely exposed."

"Not the greatest idea," I shook my head, fishing a pair of tweezers out of the bag. "Now, hold still."

Sam sucked her breath in between her teeth as I gently pulled out the largest shard of glass, setting it down on a cloth on the table. She leaned into me, closing her eyes.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I replied, my brow furrowed. I concentrated on her back wound, putting a hand on her waist to keep her from moving, and Sam jumped at the action.

There were four tiny shards that I had to pull out, listening to her discomforted hissing the whole time. "You sure that's it?"

"Yeah," she nodded, as I cleaned the wound again and then put a band-aid over it to stop the bleeding. Now that I was done, though, I let my hand linger on her naked waist, and my fingers gently traced the skin on her stomach. Sam noticed.

"You're beautiful," I admitted softly, and as I held her I couldn't help but think of all the things Luke had said to me.

"Oh. Um. Thank you," she blushed. "I'm really, really starting to care about you, Stevie," she said, turning and hugging me; I put my chin on her shoulder, running a hand through her wet blonde hair. It smelled like the lavender shampoo she used, and I breathed it in deeply.

"I lov-"

"Can we go to bed?" she asked, her voice tired. I couldn't help but notice how she had cut me off when I was about to say "I love you" - again. "As much as I'd like to stay up with you," she looked down at the hand on her waist, "I'm exhausted and cold. Can we please just go to bed?"

"Why not?" I smiled, kissing her deeply on the lips as I moved my hands to her hips and pulled her closer. Sam responded enthusiastically: her hips lifted, trying to find mine, and her back arched. Heat pooled in all the right places.

Too soon, though, she pulled back, yawning, and I laughed at the motion - before I noticed dark markings along her jaw.

"What happened here?" I asked, touching the bruises, and she winced.

"Nothing, Stevie. It's no big deal," she got up and walked into our room, where she grabbed one of my t-shirts and put it on, fluffing out her wet hair.

"Those are really dark bruises, Sam. Another Masquerade injury?"

"Not exactly," she crawled into our bed, hiding underneath the covers with the stuffed animal from The Lion King (Simba, to be exact) that I had given her for her 18th birthday.

"What was it, then?"

She looked at me with wide eyes for a second, and then sighed. "Namor grabbed me earlier today, that's all. No big deal."

"It is, if he left bruises," I argued, turning out the light and shutting the door as I got into my pajamas.

"I'm fine, Steve. And I don't want to talk about it," she said, turning away from me.

"Fine," I leaned over her, kissing her on the cheek before getting under the covers myself. She pressed her freezing toes against my legs, giggling, just like she did every night.

"Goodnight, honey," she said, her eyelids drooping. "Thanks for helping with Luke."

"Don't worry about it," I said, but she was already fast asleep. Sam looked beautiful when she slept - it was the one time when none of her worries were etched across her face.

I kissed her on the nose one last time, before settling in myself. "Sleep tight. I love you."

* * *

**Author's Note: Kind of a long chapter, but I had fun writing it. Hope you enjoyed reading it, too ;)**

**Thanks to the seven people who have voted for the next Avenger, you guys! So far, Rogue is winning with 6 and the Scarlet Witch just has 1. Too bad, Emma Frost is my favorite, since she's such a bitch xD I'm going to leave the poll up though, guys, so please vote if you haven't yet - the story depends on your decision!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter; I really, really appreciate it: _Comiccrazygothgirl, GoForTehGig, BeyondxxBirthday, ClarinetRox88, Awareness, Tbonechick2011, LunaTheLoneWolf, littlethingsbyonedirection, CeffylGwyn, InLoveWithTheRogue, brandibuckeye, erica . phoenix 16, roxxirox _and_ Shadow Realm Triforce_! You guys inspire me, so thank you :)**

**Until next time, which I promise will be crazy and filled with lots of action: both Ms. Marvel and Spider-Man will be showing up, and both with large parts in the chapter :D Please leave a review and tell me what you thought, luvs.**

**READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	12. Dirty

Samantha Silverman's POV

_Only your real friends will tell you when your face is dirty._

_- Sicilian proverb_

"Master Barton, Miss Silverman, we have a situation on 34th. An armored truck is being hijacked," JARVIS announced, and the voice of the AI rang loud and clear through my earpiece.

"I'm still eating, can't it wait another two minutes?" I mumbled through a mouth full of hot dog.

"I'll take it. Probably a job for a sniper, anyway," Clint said, standing up beside me. We were sitting on the top of a high-rise building, our legs dangling off the ledge as we ate some hot dogs recently acquired by an astonished street vendor. It's not every day you get to serve Masquerade and Hawkeye.

You see, I was lucky enough to have that evening off work, and therefore I had been put on Avengers patrol. We constantly had two Avengers out running around the city at all times, looking to stop trouble before it started, and tonight was my and Clint's turn.

I hadn't been back in costume in a while, since I was working two jobs and had been having instability issues, but it felt nice. I had missed the feeling of stretching my legs as I ran; of pushing myself past impossible as I tried to fight. Of using brawn instead of brain. But because of the Avengers' constant surveillance, crime had gone down, and thus the demand for Masquerade had gotten smaller. I mean, sure, I had signed quite a few autographs and had my picture taken multiple times while in Times Square buying a hot dog, but the city didn't really need me fighting crime, you know?

Hawkeye chucked his hot dog wrapper at me, waving goodbye as he grappled his way down the side of the building. I sighed, lying back as I finished my food; I stared up at the sky, trying to see the stars in the dark velvet sky, but it wasn't possible because there were too many lights in the city. Sometimes I really wished my powers let me fly.

My breath in the cold air was bleach accidentally spilled on a black t-shirt. I watched light, fluffy snowflakes begin to fall around me. They dusted my eyelashes and burned my cheeks as the grey slush of the old snow in the city became covered in white again. Sometimes, I could seperate myself from thoughts of Christmas and just drift away through the snow and the cold, biting wind; my mind ran over the earlier events of today. The morning had been normal, I guess, with the exception of Luke: he had made things incredibly awkward at breakfast, and Steve didn't seem very at ease. I shipped Luke off to hang around S.H.I.E.L.D on the Helicarrier today, hoping Fury or Agent Hill would find him something to do that wouldn't get him killed. Apparently Luke got to shadow Agent 13, some woman named Sharon Carter. I could only hope he wouldn't fall hopelessly in love with her and then join S.H.I.E.L.D because he had some sort of grand illusion about it.

After breakfast, I passed time with Steve. Surprisingly enough, it had been a bit awkward. Maybe he realized that I had cut him off yesterday when he tried to say "I love you."

I just wasn't ready yet, to say it back. I loved him, and I had admitted it to Susan Storm, Tasha, Janet, and Pepper . . . but admitting it to Steve was an entirely different thing that I hadn't prepared myself for. It was a two-way street: I wasn't ready for him to say it to me, either. It would make me feel like I had so much more responsibility: trying to be the woman that Captain America was in love with. So for now, it was easier to just erase and rewind - pretend he wasn't about to say it. And that was the biggest thing, too: it seemed like so much pressure, being the one girl that _Captain America_, the greatest of greats, had fallen in love with. I preferred to pretend it was just like before. I was a good enough actress that if he never actually said it to my face, I could act like he wasn't even thinking of it.

I had been surprised by his tiny show of affection last night, though, when he removed that damn piece of glass from my shoulder. Granted, I _had_ shown up in front of him shirtless, but it was also a very un-Steve thing to do. That didn't mean I didn't like it.

In Steve's eyes, it probably seemed like I just wanted sex - but the fact of the matter was, I didn't. Sure, I wouldn't protest if he initiated it, but that's not what I was out for. I just wanted to be held, touched, caressed. I wanted to be physically closer to Steve. I wanted to cuddle, and I wanted his warm hands on my body. I knew that Steve would be gentle and loving, and I craved that. He was the only one allowed to touch me, and I was finding that I _needed_ that touch.

I'd never really been _held_ before. There was Mark, my high school sweetheart - but we were kids. He could be a jerk every so often, and sometimes the only thing on his mind was sex. Mark was too young to know how to properly love someone; how to treat them.

Then there was Daken. God, he was the opposite of Steve. Rape, abuse, violence, drugs, cigarettes . . . that was all Daken. And maybe he was the reason I wanted a touch as loving as Steve's - because I had experienced one as abusive as Daken's.

"Miss Silverman," JARVIS crackled over the speaker, and I pressed it further into my ear. "I'm sending you the co-ordinates to Norman Osborn's penthouse. There seems to be some sort of trouble over there . . ."

"What's up?" I asked, getting to my feet and beginning to run across the roof. I reached the edge of the building and leapt onto the roof of the next one, careful not to look down - I didn't want to see the 40-something story drop beneath me. Unfortunately enough, the fastest way for a superhero to get around in this city was by rooftops. Especially since I didn't have a car or jet.

"Well, there's a high school-party going on."

I stopped in my tracks. "You're sending me to shut down a high school party?!"

"No, there's been a bombing in the building, and a highly-dangerous and armed individual is roaming the premises. Spider-Man has made an appearance as well."

I frowned, beginning to run again. "Say, whose party is this?"

"Harry Osborn, ma'am. The son of Norman Osborn, leader of Oscorp."

"And what school does Harry go to?"

"Midtown Secondary School."

"JARVIS, does Peter Parker go to Midtown?"

"Searching school files . . ." there was a pause. "Affirmative."

"Ah." I leapt down a few stories, onto a fire escape, where I swung around on a metal pole. "Then I'm guessing he was already at the party when this attacker showed up."

A few minutes later, I made it to the apartment complex. There were hundreds of tourists and locals milling about on the streets, looking and pointing up; police cars screamed by before stopping abruptly, and dozens of New York City's Finest got out, guns at the ready. Up on the top of the building, where the penthouse was, fires were burning; even from all the way down on the ground I could hear shouting. Every so often an object would fall from the sky: a shoe, a purse, debris from a wall, a couch. Bullet clips.

"Shit," I swore, looking all the way up and shield my eyes from the light of a helicopter that was now flying by. Policemen were busting down the lobby doors to gain access to the elevator, but all power in the building had been shut down. They were forced to take the stairs, but I knew it would take them too long: the kids up at the party needed help _now,_ not after the police climbed up 70-something sets of stairs. And I had no goddamn way to get up there.

"Need a lift?"

I turned in surprise to see Ms. Marvel standing beside me, looking up at the penthouse just like I was. She had appeared there quickly and quietly, almost as if she had been there the whole time. Now that I was closer to her, though, I could see that she was definitely Major Carol Danvers of the Air Force.

Carol wore the same Ms. Marvel costume as last time: thigh-high black boots, a black bodysuit with a lightning bolt across the chest, a red sash around her hips and an angular black mask. Her curly golden blonde hair spilled across her shoulders, and she reached up with a black-gloved hand to wipe some of it away from her eyes. She was taller than I was, and way more muscular – I had to admit, she was a pretty damn attractive woman.

"I – you – uh – hi," I said brilliantly; Carol turned her gaze to look at me.

"We both know you have no way of getting up there," she said plainly, as tourists began to notice us and snap pictures. "But _I _can fly. You want a ride?"

I swallowed my surprise. "Yeah. Yes. Sure. Of course. That'd be great-" she scooped an arm around my waist and took off from the ground before I could say another word.

Flying with Carol was a lot like flying with Iron Man. You were completely exposed to the wind rushing past your face, your eyes watered, you felt weightless and the feeling of your feet not touching the ground was almost sickening. But Carol flew with such skill that I managed not to worry – besides, we had bigger things up ahead.

She dropped me on the balcony of the penthouse, shattering the glass doors with a burst of energy from her hand. I sprinted in beside her, but only got half as far because something flew into me, knocking me down. I went skidding back out onto the balcony, crashing into the railing.

"Hey, if you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked," my attacker said, standing up, and I saw it was Spider-Man - Peter Parker. "Oh. Masquerade. Hi," he scratched his mask awkwardly.

"Watch what you're being thrown into, dumbass," I said, scrambling to my feet.

"Nice to see you too."

"What's up?"

"The sky."

I frowned. "No, I mean 'What the hell is going on here?'" From inside, I heard the sound of Carol's voice, directing scared teenagers around.

"Oh, right," Spider-Man said, tugging me back into the building. "Some psycho woman's going around shooting stuff."

"Is it the Enchantress?" I asked, sprinting into a hallway; Spidey crawled along the wall.

"Don't think so, but whoever she is, she's big on guns."

I wondered vaguely if it was the same psycho from the night before, with the homeless people fires. It made sense. And all we had to do was follow the sound of gunfire, and we were good.

Before we found the terrorist, though, we ran into a blonde, beefy high school student who looked like the kind of guy who would be on the football team. I opened my mouth to tell him to evacuate the building, but he cut me off.

"Spider-Maaaaan! I'm Flash Thompson, your biggest fan!" he yelled, ripping open his jacket to reveal a Spider-Man t-shirt underneath. "Let me help you!"

"Sure," Peter said without missing a beat. "Here," he headed over to an empty closet and opened it for the boy. "Step in here. Wait for my signal, and then jump out and we'll surround the bad guy. But remember to wait for my signal!" Flash Thompson stepped in, and Peter slammed the door shut.

I looked at him, confused. "Immature, I know, but it felt good," he shrugged, running back down the hall; I trailed after. "Flash's the school bully. Beats me up frequently - traps me in lockers. That's as close to revenge as I'm ever going to get."

I couldn't hold back a laugh. "Nah, I don't blame you. I was bullied, too. Must feel nice."

Spider-Man and I ran into Carol, dragging behind her a few scared teenagers. Beside her stood a young, handsome boy whom I recognized from tabloids to be Harry Osborn.

"He's leading us to a hidden room his father's got," she explained as she ran past me, "that we'll hide the kids in. He's got no way of getting into said room, though, so I'm tagging along to break it open," her curls flew everywhere as she turned her head to look at me. "But then I'm coming to beat up the damn terrorist."

"Our priority is the kids!" I shouted after her, but she ignored me. Spider-Man and I forged on. We found our rogue woman in the library of the penthouse (jeez, Norman Osborn must've been rich as shit to afford a library), holding a few kids hostage as she shot bullets at anything that displeased her. She certainly _looked_ like a psycho, in that I-could-be-normal sort of way: chin-length red hair, freckles, small eyes and an almost-flat chest. Her smile, though . . . it was the kind of maniacal grin you only see in nightmares. The kind that horror movie actors can never pull off perfectly, because it's so damn insane. Her lips were pulled back and her teeth were gleaming in that disturbing, psychotic grin.

She wasn't just some random person off the street, either, as she wore a costume - she had planned this. The woman sported a red shock-plate bustier with multiple sheathes for knives along her ribs, and she had on black pants and knee-high red combat boots. Guns were strapped to her waist, and there was a tiny skull emblem emblazoned on her chest.

"Certainly took you long enough to get here, honey," she called out once she saw me. "I was going to tear this apartment apart brick-by-brick to appease my boredom. I mean, _come on_. It's got to be called an _apart_ment for something. " The woman pushed a kid onto the ground, heading towards me. "You don't know me, Masquerade, but I know you," her lips curled as she sauntered over. "I've been-"

I blasted her with wind, knocking her backwards off her feet and into a bookshelf. The whole thing went crashing down on top of her, books cascading in a waterfall.

"Spidey! We need to get these kids out of here," I said, waving back in the direction we had last seen Ms. Marvel. We both began to lead the teenagers away, poking along through the rubble.

"I wasn't done talking!" the woman screamed, standing up and beginning to shoot. Peter knocked me to the floor just in time to save me from the bullets she was now aimlessly firing. "Come face me, Masquerade, or I'll blow up Osborn's goddamn bedroom! I've already destroyed his kitchen."

I stood, gaining her attention. "Can we just talk about this? Can you put the guns down?" I asked, hands out.

She twirled one on her finger, laughing. "This is between you and me, Masquerade. Spider-Man needs to leave," she quickly straightened out her gun and fired at Peter, but missed. "I'm the Joker to your Batman," her smile was slimy. "The _Red Skull_ to your _Captain America."_

I lunged at the woman, knocking her backwards into another bookshelf. We were buried under heaps of literature, but it wasn't enough to stop me from punching her across the jaw. The woman kicked me off of her with both feet, and I went flying upside-down into yet another shelf; landing on my head, I groaned as the shelf tipped over onto me.

"The name," she pulled me out of the debris by the collar, "is Sin. Short for Sinthea. Ring any bells?"

"Um. No," I said, wondering if it was supposed to. Suddenly, a large population index whacked Sin on the back of the head. We both turned to gaze at a young high school senior with blonde hair and a thick black headband; she trembled, but her expression was defiant.

"Bitch," Sin murmured, pulling a knife from her bustier and raising it. Spider-Man interfered then, webbing up Sin's hand and grabbing the student.

"Gwen Stacey, you need to leave," he said stubbornly, pushing her towards the exit.

"My dad is chief police commissioner; I want to help-"

Sin fired off five bullets in the squealing girl's direction, and Peter left with her, trying to convince her to return to safety with Harry and the others.

"Fine. Now it's you and me, Sin," I narrowed my eyes as she swung the web-covered hand with the knife at me. It grazed my stomach two inches below my belly button, but it wasn't enough that it might leave a scar.

Her eyes were wild as she tackled me down, sitting on my chest. I lit a few books on fire and flung them at her, flames and all, but Sin ignored them as she leaned over me and shallowly traced a cut down the side of my face. Quickly, I turned my head into water.

"Nu-uh-uh," Sin's red hair went flying as she shook her head, and she plunged the small knife - it was barely five inches long and half an inch wide - into my side. She buried it in to the hilt, and I lost my concentration, gasping in pain as my head returned to flesh.

Sin smacked me across the face once, twice, three times; the fourth punch made my mouth start to bleed on the inside and the fifth cracked open my nose. "What the hell," I mumbled through the blood, "do you want from me?"

"Think of it as revenge in a very sinister form," her eyes lit up, "or that I'm just completing a master plan years in the making. You're dating Captain America-"

Something slammed into Sin, knocking her off my back and into another bookshelf with more strength than I had on my best day. I struggled to sit up, blinking through the pain of the knife in my side and the ringing in my head from the blunt head trauma.

To my right was Sin, fighting - and losing - against Ms. Marvel, who had come to attack as Spider-Man appeared again, flinging webs while he crawled his way back to where we were sitting in a mess of books. The gun in Sin's hand was knocked away, and her face became panicked as she quickly realized she was outnumbered. I stood, lighting her fire on hair, and she wasted a few precious seconds to pat it out.

Carol knocked Sin straight through the wall with an energy blast, while Spidey rushed over to help me up. I couldn't stand on my own, as I was too dizzy, but I still managed to hold Sin back with a wall of wind.

"Should we be wearing name tags?" Spidey asked as Ms. Marvel walked slowly towards us; Sin struggled against my wind. "I'm Spider-Man, and this is my sidekick Masquerade."

"Nice try, kid," I rolled my eyes. "Hey, Carol, thanks for saving my-"

I suddenly found myself pinned against the wall, Carol's hands at my throat. Spider-Man lunged, but she shot him back with an energy blast from one of her hands as the other began to choke the life out of me.

"How did you know my name?" Carol demanded, squeezing tighter. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I couldn't speak. The edges of my vision had already gone black: she had super strength, and was crushing my windpipe.

"How's she supposed to answer you if you're choking her?" a snarky voice asked. It was Sin, who had obviously gotten past my wind wall when my concentration was broken by Ms. Marvel's assault. "Dumb blonde. I mean, honestly, you totally live up to the stereotype."

"So do you," Carol didn't lessen her grip on my neck. "Gingers have no souls."

"Harsh," Sin grinned. I struggled against Carol, but it was no use - I was lacking in the strength department, compared to her. And so I had to watch helplessly as Sin pulled out her gun, aimed it straight at Carol's head, and pulled the trigger.

Every bullet fired ricocheted right off; Sin threw herself to the ground in order to avoid being shot by her own bullets. Carol Danvers was _bulletproof_. Damn, _now_ I was jealous. She could fly, she was super strong, she could blast energy (and, as I later found out, she could absob it, too), and she was damn attractive.

But she wasn't an Avenger.

Carol let me fall to the ground, and I clutched at my throat, sucking in a breath. _Air, I love you, let's never part ways away_. She flew at Sin, knocking her straight through the outside wall and skidding across the floor onto the balcony outside. I got to my feet right at the same time as Peter, and we exchanged a dubious glance.

"Screw off!" Sin yelled frantically, pushing Ms. Marvel away. "I didn't come here to fight _you_!"

Carol's hand began to glow as she stored up energy, preparing to blast Sin. "You evil, sick-minded woman-" she began, but was cut off when Sin whipped a knife out of her belt. She hit Ms. Marvel over the head with the hilt of it, hard enough to knock Carol out; she began to bleed beneath her blonde hair as she crumpled to the ground.

Sin looked up and glared at me, running off. Peter followed and tried to tie her up with his webs, but Sin was skilled – and insane. She leapt off the side of the building right before our eyes. Spider-Man lunged forward, trying to web her up, but all of a sudden she was gone. There was no more trace of the young woman.

I looked down at the knife in my side in anger, grinding my teeth together to hold back a cry of pain. I knew I had to leave the knife in before I could get to a doctor, in order to stop blood loss, but it somehow seemed like such a bad idea. I climbed out of the rubble towards Peter, where he was kneeling over Ms. Marvel.

"What are we gonna do with her?"

"We can't just _leave_ her . . ." I said through my teeth. "The police will take her as a suspect, since they don't know who she is."

"I can get her out of here," Peter sighed, "if you deal with the police. Where can we meet you?"

"Roof of Macy's department store," I decided, already heading towards the staircase where the NYPD – and probably a SWAT team – were climbing up. "Go!"

Spider-Man picked Carol up around the waist and slung her over his back, shooting off a web and swinging away as I ran through the penthouse. A sound emitted from a closet near the entrance that made me smile grimly: "Spidey? Spiiiiideyyyy! I'm ready! When's the signal? Spider-Man? Hello?" It was Flash Thompson.

I met up with Mr. Stacey on the staircase - the police chief and that girl Gwen's father. Quickly, I tried to explain to him what had happened, but he demanded I get the knife removed from my side first.

Back down on the ground, the paramedics (I don't know what we'd do without them, honestly) bandaged me up right away, although it was agonizing when they pulled the knife out. And I had thought it was painful going _in_. They wanted to take me to a hospital, but as soon as they were done I took off, heading for Macy's. Clint contacted me via JARVIS, and I told him that the problem had been dealt with already - technically, I was just cleaning up with the police now. Even though that was a lie, it made more sense than "I'm hanging out with Spider-Man and Ms. Marvel."

Carol was just coming to when I made it to the famous department store. Her eyes were wild and she fired up her hands, but once she saw that no one was in danger, she calmed down. Spider-Man and I backed away, giving her space. "You're safe now, Ms. Marvel, and so is everyone back at the apartment," I said, holding up my hands to show I posed no threat. "Spider-Man got you out of there because the police would've had a field day, trying to figure out what the hell your role was in that."

She snorted. "'Ms. Marvel'? Is that really the name I'm getting stuck with? Because I'm not gonna lie, I kinda like it." She ran her hands through her hair. "So you're Spider-Man and Masquerade, right? Didn't know you two were friends."

"Oh please, not friends. Masquerade's my minion," Peter said. I kicked him.

"So, you're an Avenger," she looked at me. "Who was the crazy lady back there?"

"She said her name was Sinthea," I shrugged, "but other than that, I honestly know nothing about her. It seems that she _thought_ she was important enough to be known, but, well . . ."

"And we don't know her motive?"

"What, crashing a party doesn't count? Maybe she was jealous because she wasn't invited," Spider-Man said, and I rolled my eyes.

"I don't know," I turned to Peter. "You were there at the beginning. What happened?"

Spider-Man scratched at his butt. "The power went out - I was only there because my girlfriend Gwen Stacey wanted me to go, for the record, I'm not a party guy - and there was a huge explosion in the kitchen. Then Sin showed up out of nowhere and stared shooting. She wasn't trying to kidnap or steal or kill anyone. I think she just wanted to talk to you," Peter looked at me through the expressionless Spider-Man mask.

"But _why_?" Carol stood up.

"Something about Cap," I picked at my lip, "And something about revenge or a master plan. I don't know."

"Well, I think we handled it rather well," Carol smiled.

Peter deadpanned, "We destroyed Mr. Osborn's entire penthouse."

"Yeah, we could use some training," I sighed.

Carol narrowed her eyes suddenly. "How did you know my name, Masquerade?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm an Avenger. It would have been more shocking if I _didn't_ know who you are . . . _Carol Danvers_."

She cocked a hip. "And you are?"

"I don't have to tell you that," I took a step back. "Look, I don't know you very well, but I know you well enough to trust you. Maybe I can even talk to Tony about getting training for you. So, like, we don't destroy another penthouse."

"What about me?" Spider-Man asked, and I headlocked him.

"I already told you, Tony thinks you're too young."

"But wouldn't training be all the more useful then?"

"Talk to him yourself, you dummy!" I laughed, releasing him.

"So . . . that was a different woman than the one at the Masquerade Ball, right?" Carol asked awkwardly, and I nodded. "And why the hell weren't you there?!"

I looked down at my lap. "I dunno. I was busy helping other people, I guess." Carol huffed angrily. "I was . . . saving the president!"

"Not true," she sung. "Steve Rogers was doing that." Her eyes went glossy. "I suppose you might know him through Iron Man?"

"Uh, sure."

"Is he that blonde Ambercrombie model?" Peter added helpfully.

"My god, he certainly could be," Carol gushed. "I was just asking because I've been trying to get a hold of him, but he doesn't appear to work at the museum he told me about. He's such a handsome man. So sweet. And a gentleman, too, which you don't see around very often anymore. His smile was perfect, too! _He_ was perfect! Jesus, I haven't had very much luck in love, but if there's one guy I'd want to make it work with-"

"Will you _please_ stop talking about him like that?" I snapped.

"Why?" Carol looked offended.

"Because he's _my _boyfriend, that's why," I crossed my arms over my chest.

"But I thought - I thought you were dating Captain America . . ." she trailed off. "Oh. Wait. OH. I get it."

I sighed. Moving slowly, I reached up to untie the strings holding my mask to my face, and I let it go; it fell to my lap, and I turned to face Carol.

Her reaction? ". . . Jesus, it looks like someone used your face as a punching bag." Peter began to laugh. "But you're - hey! Samantha Stark?" she said incredulously.

"Actually," I said, "it's Samantha Silverman. The whole Stark thing is a publicity stunt to keep my identity secret." A stunt that had other repercussions. I thought of that afternoon, when I had actually _hung out_ with Amora the Enchantress.

* * *

_"I jest not, Samantha, I would like to know how things work within the Avengers. What are their strengths? Their weaknesses?" Amora asked me for like the hundredth time as I sipped at my tea. We sat in a tiny café, near the gym where we had spent the morning working out._

_"Well, I dunno. My dad's pretty damn near perfect, thank you very much," I crossed my legs. "And the Avengers are all just such great people. I love being allowed to hang out around them! Like Clint Barton, ohmygod, he's so hot. I mean, have you _seen_ those arms of his? I'm a total sucker for arms. They have to be my favorite part of a man's body. You know who else has great arms? Captain America. And Thor, oh, wow." Yes, Tony had convinced me to play the dumb blonde card - but I wasn't allowed to reveal any real information._

_"Fine, let's try something else," Amora seethed. "What are the Avengers doing about the Enchantress?"_

_I didn't get the chance to answer, though: as I sipped at my tea, her eyes noticed the tattoo on the inside of my wrist. "Masquerade," she read, her voice sultry. "Interesting tattoo there," she spat._

_Self-consciously I covered it up with my sleeve, and Amora went back to quizzing me about the Avengers._

* * *

"Silverman, huh? Neat name," Carol said. "And . . . you're really dating Captain America?!"

"Yep," Peter answered for me. "They are just the cah-YOO-tist superhero couple you will ever meet." I jabbed him in the side, but he went on. "Are you two in loooooooove?"

"Well yeah, I'm in love with him, he just doesn't know it."

"Is he any good in bed?" Carol asked, and then slapped her hands over her mouth; her eyes went wild. "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate. I know you're dating him, but he's so damn attractive . . ."

"I just - I feel guilty, you know?" I wrung my hands out. "Steve deserves romance and warmth and an actual relationship, and it's so much more effort - but for him? It's all worth it. I guess it just bugs me that sex has become so meaningless now," I sighed, looking off into the distance. "He wants to fall in love _before_ making love. And that's fine, obviously. I think it's really sweet. There's nothing cuter than a possessive, virgin Steve. But it's strange to hear the words 'making love', since nowadays everyone's just 'having sex.' And making love means so much more, doesn't it? It means you're doing it because you care for one another, and you're in love, and you want to share something special. You're not doing it just because it feels good and you think your partner's hot. You get what I mean?" my voice was tense. They nodded.

My earpiece suddenly crackled, and I pushed it further into my ear so I could hear. "Sam, our shift's done," Clint said. "You can stay out if you want - I know I am, and Janet and Hank are joining me - but you'll probably want to get home to your brother . . . ?"

"Yep. Thanks, Clintie."

"No problem. We still on for 4?"

"Of course." Back when we both lived in Avengers Tower, Clint and I used to both get up at 4 in the morning to have a visit and drink tea. Now that I lived with Steve, we still did it, although it was by phone now.

"Well, I'm off," I stood, putting my mask back on. "I promised Steve we'd watch 'It's A Wonderful Life' when I got home, since it's my favorite Christmas movie and he's never seen it. It was released around the same time that he was frozen," I shrugged. "Nice talking to you two. Take care, kid," I hit Peter on the head. "Watch out for psycho gingers. And - nice to meet you, Ms. Marvel," I stood, smiling.

"Hey, I can give you a lift back to Avengers Tower," she said kindly. "It's kind of a pain to get there when you can't fly, am I right?"

I laughed. "Of course. Thanks. I'll make sure to mention you to Tony."

Peter shot off a web, connecting it to another building. "You two girls have fun without me," he teased. "It's nice to hang out with some real super legends."

Carol shook her head. "_I'm_ not a legend."

Peter jumped off the building, swinging away on his web as Carol picked me up and flew off into the night sky of the Big Apple. I could've sworn, though, that as we flew away, I heard Peter say: "Not yet."

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry this update took so long. School just finished before the holidays, so it was pretty busy. Plus, I had this chapter all ready to go last Friday - but it took place at a high school. And last Friday, there was that Sandy Hook shooting. Therefore, I decided it wasn't appropriate to post the chapter, and so I re-wrote the whole thing. My thoughts are with the victims and families of the shooting.**

**Lots of little Spider-Man cameos in here, see if you can spot them all ;) and also, drop me a line if you know who Sin is! She's from the Marvel Universe, of course. Next chapter will be told from Carol Danvers' POV :D**

**The poll for the next (female) Avenger is still open, and I believe Rogue is still winning! I forgot to mention one last name on that pole: Brunnhilde/Valkyrie. She's a goddess from Asgard who's actually a lot like Thor, except she's a crazy feminist and even more of a badass warrior than Ms. Marvel or Black Widow, which is saying something. Feel free to vote again, guys ;)**

**Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers last time, and I apologize for the long wait for this chapter: _ClarinetRox88, InLoveWithTheRogue, roxxirox, brandibuckeye, Comiccrazygothgirl, CeffylGwyn, littlethingsbyonedirection, Shadow Realm Triforce_ and_ erica . phoenix 16_! Missing out on some of the regulars, but I'm late, so I understand :)**

**You know what I'd really like for Christmas, guys? A review :3 thanks for reading, and please tell me what you thought! HAPPY HOLIDAYS, AND READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	13. Uncomfortable Explosions

Carol Danvers' POV

_Explosions are not comfortable. - Yevgeny Zamyatin_

"Lookit. Kingpin's goons put together this neat new Avengers app that we can use now," the blonde thug on the bridge said.

"Shut yer mouth, Ernie, I'm busy!" his friend replied, waving his gun around.

"But look! It connects us to all the other thugs in the Big Apple!"

"Everyone outta the cars! Hands where I can see 'em!" the friend shouted to the group of terrified civilians that he was holding hostage.

"Hey, Boss, this lady's got a real mink fur coat!" a third man pranced around, wrapping it over his shoulders. "Dontcha know, lady, killing animals is bad!"

I flew above the Brooklyn Bridge, watching the scene unfold: there was a biker gang of at least seven thugs, holding up traffic and waving guns around as they looted everyone in the cars, rich or poor. They had women, children and men out of the nearby vehicles, kneeling on the snowy ground with their hands in the air as the gang members searched them for valuables.

I recognized these men from the police files I'd scoured before starting my career as undercover superhero "Ms. Marvel", and from the Avengers website that listed NYC's Most Dangerous. The leader of them was Boss Rossignol, one of Kingpin's best men. His particular group of criminals made up a gang that resided mainly in Lower Manhattan.

"Look, Boss, it's an Avengers app," this Ernie guy was adamant about it, waving his phone around. "Someone sees an Avenger, or even Spider-Man or Daredevil, and they key it in so the rest of us thugs knows where they's is! See, see, Thor's busy stopping a bank robbery, and Black Widow's off-"

"I don't CARE, Ernie!" Boss smacked him upside the head.

"I'm jus' sayin', we got no chance o' gettin' caught. All the Avengers are doin' other stuff."

"Yeah, but that means we have less than ten minutes until backup Avengers come. Like Iron Man or Captain America. One of the big ones," the man with the fur coat said grimly.

"That's why we brought Cupcake here," Boss snapped, patting another man on the back. This "Cupcake" guy was huge, in the muscles-and-steroids - and fat, too - sort of way. His face was all red and covered in tattoos, and I could tell that he had absolutely no brain. Only brawn. He was their insurance; their bodyguard; their protector.

But he was still nothing I couldn't handle.

I flew smack into the large guy, sending him flying into a taxi in the blink of an eye. The other men scattered back, startled, as I came to stand on the ground in front of them.

"Who are you supposed to be?" Boss snarled, raising his gun.

I rolled my eyes. "Come _on_, don't you read the newspapers? I'm Ms. Marvel!" Powering up my right hand, I raised it and shot an energy blast straight at him. "And I'll be beating you senseless tonight!"

Last night had been my little party with Masquerade and Spider-Man, and this morning there were photographs all over the newspapers. Mainly they were pictures of me and Masquerade together. Back when we had both been standing on the ground, tourists had taken photos . . . and now the world knew we were two separate people. "Ms. Marvel" was the one making headlines now, instead of Masquerade.

A thug on a motorcycle came straight for me, his engine roaring. I stood my ground, but peered inside the taxi cab that Cupcake had already smashed. No one in it? Yes. Good. Picking it up in one hand, I threw it at the motorcycle goon.

Boss began firing rounds at me, but they bounced off my back harmlessly. Giving up, he ran straight for me instead, and I blasted him again with a burst of energy. The guy with the mink fur coat wrapped his arms around my neck from behind, so I slammed the back of my head into his face and elbowed him in the gut, while stomping on his foot; he let go, and I whipped around with a straight arm, knocking him onto his side. Another unnamed thug ran at me, but I kicked him in the chin, my leg going straight up over my head.

Somewhere, Ernie was screaming, "THERE'S NO BUTTON ON THE APP FOR HER!"

Cupcake had finally gotten up and shaken off his dizziness, and now he was mad. He ran at me like a bulldozer, and so I ran back at him like a tank; we collided and went rearing back, although _he_ fell on top of _me_.

That was not fun.

Gritting my teeth, I found that I was strong enough to push the fat man off me. I stood, flying off to find Boss again; he was now holding children hostage, trying to save himself by threatening others.

"You take one step closer and I'll shoot!" he shouted, pointing his gun at a little crying boy's head. His mother, somewhere to my left, shrieked. I held up my hands, backing away - and running into the wall of human flesh that was Cupcake.

He laughed, wrapping his meaty hands around my neck and crushing my windpipe as I fought desperately to pry his fingers off. _Come on, Carol, don't give out now_, I thought. On a whim, I flew up towards the top of the bridge. Cupcake was too slow to let go until we were flying through the clouds; once he did, I barely had enough breath to turn myself around and catch him as he fell. Still, I did slam him back into the Brooklyn bridge pretty damn hard, causing concrete to shatter below us.

Fur Coat ran at me once more. I stabbed him in the eye with a finger, grabbed hold of his head and slammed it into my knee, and then punched him in the gut. _This_ was why I could make a good hero: I was a warrior. I wasn't afraid to be violent and emotional and a badass. I punched the bad guys, asked questions later. You did something wrong, you payed. There was no arguing with me.

Fur Coat tumbled to the ground but managed to get back on his feet, whipping a knife out of his boot and making a stabbing motion in my direction. I kicked it out of his hand easily, swinging my leg around in an arc gracefully; before I had even put my foot back on the ground, I blasted him with some of the stored-up energy inside me.

Fur Coat went flying backwards into the railing of the bridge, before flipping right over it. "NO!" I cried, lunging a few steps forward, but he managed to catch on to the railing; his feet dangled dangerously over the waters below.

I was swarmed by at least four thugs, and I had to kick, punch and bite my way through them. It was tough going, but nothing I couldn't handle - until one of them figured out I had shock plates in my suit. Shock plates were built to take the impact of a punch; of blunt force. I was relying too much on them, and that made me oblivious to the fact that not every move was an impact strike. One of the men, realizing this, grabbed my arm and twisted it up behind my back. "ARGHHHH!" I cried in pain.

Boss shoved the little boy away from him, instead pointing the gun at me again. "Is your face bulletproof, darling?" he sneered. I somersaulted through the air, over the head of the thug that was holding me, and he let go right away.

"A somersault to get out of an arm hold? Weird, but impressive," Boss admitted.

Ernie ran up to him, waving his cell phone. "We're running out of time, the other Avengers have been altered and they're probably on their way."

"Correction: they're already here."

I looked up in amazement to see Iron Man flying by overhead; he circled once, and then touched down in the middle of our thug circle. Ant-Man was nearby, too, crawling his way through the panicked civilians. Well, that was my cue to leave. I knew Masquerade liked me . . . but Tony Stark? He was a big shot. And I didn't know how he would feel about another superhero in New York.

Before I flew off, I ran over to the side of the bridge to check on Fur Coat. A group of civilians had pulled him up already, and were standing watch over him. The woman whose fur coat he had stolen had reclaimed it, her face red as she watched him like a dingo watches a human baby.

That was what I loved most about this city. How even after this man had stolen and tried to kill its civilians - they could still put all that aside to save his life. To pull him up from the bridge all by themselves because they knew it was the right thing to do.

"Well, I'll be off," I muttered, but stopped when the fur coat woman called after me.

"It's fake," she said; I frowned, confused. "The fur. It's fake. I'm a vegan."

"Oh," I blinked.

She sighed. "Thank you, Masquerade. You saved our lives. Thank you."

"I'm not Masquerade," I help up my hands. "Don't any of you people read the newspaper?"

"You're Ms. Marvel!" a little boy stepped to the front of the crowd. He was dressed up in a full Spider-Man costume that was two sizes too big, with the eye holes cut out. "I'm Spider-Man!"

"And I'm Wolverang!" another little boy shouted, this one in a blue-and-yellow Wolverine suit.

"It's Wolver_INE_, idiot," Spidey said, jabbing his friend in the side.

"Oh. Right. Wolverine!" the boy held up his fake plastic claws.

"You two brave heroes think you can keep an eye on this villain before the police come?" I kneeled down so I could look them in the eyes. The thug sighed, looking like he wished the civilians had just let him fall.

"'Course, Ms. Marvel! We won't let you down!" Spidey shouted, making web-shooting sounds. "We're Avengers too!"

"I know you are," I smiled at them. "And, hey, if you two ever need any help, you know who to call?"

"911?" Wolverine asked, sounding confused.

Spider-Man knew what I was talking about. "You!" he cried, running up to me for a big hug. Wolverine followed. I must admit that I was more than a bit astonished, but if this was what came with being a hero, I could more than handle it. Making a child happy? Priceless.

"I've got to go now, my two brave little soldiers," I kissed them both on the cheeks. "Stay safe, and be good!"

"God bless you, Ms. Marvel," the vegan woman shook my hand. "Thank you. Bless you. Thank you. And a very merry Christmas to you!"

"Happy holidays," I smiled, winking, and then flew off into the night sky. Ant-Man had finally joined Iron Man in his clean-up of the attempted robbery, and from high above the Brooklyn Bridge I could see numerous squad cars coming our way. They'd all be fine.

Me? I needed a bath, and some sleep. I probably smelled like Cupcake.

* * *

_KNOCK, KNOCK_.

I sighed, getting up from the couch and securing my baseball cap over my blonde curls. "Coming!" I called out to whomever was banging on the door of my hotel room, pausing _A Christmas Carol,_ which was playing on my television screen. It was the morning after the whole Boss incident on the bridge, and I had been looking forward to spending the day watching Christmas specials and taking a stroll in the snowy park. The person on the other side of the door had other plans.

"Oh! Steve. Hi!" I said in surprise, opening it to find Steve Rogers standing outside. He was bigger than I remembered: a lot taller and more muscular. His blonde hair was still styled in that dorky forties way, and his jawline looked just as delicious as it had before. As cute as I found him, though, I now knew he was dating Samantha - and although I didn't want to admit it, they made a good-looking couple.

"Major Carol Danvers?"

"Yeah. Come in, come in!" I said in a rushed tone, but he shook his head.

"No, thank you." Ooh, he was so polite. "I'm just here to drop something off."

"Yeah?"

He handed me an envelope, watermarked with Stark Enterprises. It was addressed to Ms. Marvel.

"Please don't be alarmed that we know your identity," he said. "And . . . I know you know mine. Sam told me she let it slip."

"Mm-hmm," I pursed my lips together, as it came back to me that the one and only _Captain America_ was standing at my door. "What is this?"

"An invitation."

I opened it up to find a finely-crafted invite to dinner that night at MJ's Nightclub, a famous restaurant and bar in Greenwich Village. It took months to get a reservation at that place.

"So, who's the invite from?" I raised an eyebrow, looking up at Steve's handsome face.

"The Avengers. Tony Stark wishes to speak with you, although I'm not entirely sure why."

I whistled lowly. "An invite to dinner with the _Avengers?!"_

"You've been around town in the past few days," he shrugged. "And Sam won't stop talking about you."

"Really?"

Steve nodded, seeming to relax as he talked about Samantha. "She trusts you, I believe, and I think she even looks up to you. She considers you a sort of warrior. Sam's not much of a street fighter; she hasn't had much training. Your moves back at Osborn's penthouse really impressed her."

I blushed. "Oh, well, thank you. Tell her I say thanks."

"Yeah, no problem," Steve smiled, and I swear I could've died and gone to heaven right there, his smile was so perfect. I knew I wasn't supposed to have a crush on him, but I really couldn't help it.

"Well, um . . . Bye," I said, flashing him the Vulcan "Live long and prosper" hand sign from Star Trek. He looked at it, confused. "Never mind."

"I'm not allowed to leave until you give me an answer to the letter," Steve sighed. "Sorry, Major Danvers. Tony's orders."

"Yeah, I'll come," I waved the letter around. "Hell, you think I'd pass up the chance to go to MJ's?!"

Steve nodded awkward. "Okay. Uh," he scratched the side of his face. "Goodbye."

"Wait," I held up a hand. "How'd you find me? I'm staying in a _hotel room_."

"Tony hacked through S.H.I.E.L.D's servers, and from there he was able to search every guest list of every hotel in the city until he found you. He was kind of desperate," Steve said.

"I feel like my privacy's being compromised."

"It probably is," he said honestly, his eyes wide. "I've - uh, got to be going. Have a good day, Major. I'll see you tonight at the dinner."

I blushed. "Yep. See you!"

Closing the door slowly, I slapped myself on the forehead. God, I had sounded like such an idiot. But really - I hadn't had much luck in love, and this guy seemed like a Prince Charming. Besides, he had a nice ass; I had noticed it when he walked away.

I threw the invite down on the couch and headed into the bedroom, rummaging through my suitcase. I had absolutely nothing appropriate for a dinner at MJ's, let alone going out with the Avengers. God dammit, looked like I had to go out and buy something. Ah, hell - I'd just consider it an early Christmas present to myself. So much for my relaxing day.

* * *

Later that night I pulled up to MJ's Nightclub in a taxi, and believe it or not, I wasn't feeling nervous at all. I wasn't just Carol Danvers, I was Ms. Marvel, and I could handle whatever curveballs the Avengers threw at me. I was trying to be the best superhero I could be, and it would be so much easier if I could have the support of the people who were basically royalty in the super world.

"Hi," I said to the pretty but snobby-looking hostess at the front of the restaurant. In the back of the building was the bar and nightclub, but the front was a high-class restaurant; I assumed that was where I would meet the Avengers. Except . . . I didn't know if I was actually supposed to tell the hostess I was meeting them.

"I'm with a group here, they arrived before me," I tried, fixing the Van Dyne dress I had bought - high fashion, sure to impress, and it didn't look half bad on me: red, low-cut, but a modest length.

"Group name?" the hostess asked, looking a bit ticked.

"I . . . they're friends, can't I just go in and look for them?"

"No."

"The table might be under Rogers," I offered. I wasn't sure who they would have booked it under, and that seemed like my only guess. God dammit, I should have asked for more information when Steve showed up at my door.

The hostess tapped away at a tablet for a moment, but then shook her head. "There's no one booked under that name," she sighed. "Look, hon, just go to the bar. You're not sneaking into this restaurant; go make a reservation and come back in half a year when you're off the wait list-"

"Carol Danvers!" someone walking by stopped and exclaimed in surprised. I looked up to see Samantha Silverman, smiling at me. "It's okay, Kitty, I know what group she's with," Samantha winked at me. "I'll take her to her table, it's okay." The hostess huffed, turning to help the next guests.

"C'mon, they're sitting by the windows," Samantha said kindly. She wore a short, sexy black dress that showed off her legs and barely covered her ass, but at least it had a high neck; her make-up was smokey and sultry, and her lips a deep red. Around her waist was a black apron, a notepad and pen sticking out of it.

"You work here?" I asked in surprise as we weaved our way through the tables.

"Yeah, I'm a waitress," she shrugged, looking back over her shoulder at me. "I work two jobs: this, and I'm a Roman historian at a museum in Lower Manhattan. I couldn't afford living in the Big Apple without working extra," she sighed. "Although, now that I've moved in with Steve, I don't have to pay for housing anymore - S.H.I.E.L.D pays for his flat in Brooklyn - but I don't know, I just kinda kept both jobs . . . I owe Tony Stark money from this thing in Rome," her eyes got a far-away look as we arrived at our destination.

Seated in a booth by the window overlooking the busy Manhattan street was Steve Rogers and Tony Stark himself, the billionaire. There were two unfamiliar faces with them, although I thought I might recognize the woman with short black hair from the tabloids. Ah, hell, I didn't read celebrity magazines, I had no idea.

"Yes, and now that you two are living together," Tony stark interrupted, looking between Samantha and Steve, "I'm sure that Steve's finally lost his virgin status. Am I right?"

Steve went bright red; Samantha slid into his lap, putting her arms around his neck. "Of course, Tony. Whenever you're not looking we're off having wild and raunchy sex. We're fornicating like rabbits."

Everyone at the table burst into laughter, and even I managed a chuckle; everyone except Steve. "That's not funny, Sam," he said in a low voice.

"I know, and I'm sorry, Steve. But you know it's the only way to get Tony to leave us alone. I know you hate those kind of sex jokes, and that you hate how sex doesn't really mean much anymore, but-"

"Well, when you make jokes like that, it makes it seem like it's not all that special to you," he whispered.

"I promise you, Stevie, it's not like that," she said under her breath, kissing him briefly on the lips. "You know I don't mean it. I just want Tony to-"

"It's okay," he softened, slipping his arms around her waist. "I forgive you." I was the only one to have witnessed the exchange.

"Nice dress," the woman whom I recognized from the tabloids winked at me, once she had stopped laughing. Samantha got up, gesturing for me to sit down.

"Sit beside Steve, Carol, because if you sit beside Tony I guarantee he will try to take you home for a one-night stand," she said; I blushed, but sat across from Tony and beside Steve like she had instructed. The blonde smiled at me kindly, making my heart melt a bit.

"You guys ready to order drinks yet?" Samantha asked, pulling out her notepad and pen.

"Bring a bottle of your best wine, Sammy," Tony Stark instructed. "The _whole_ bottle." He turned to the rest of the table. "What do you guys want?"

Everyone ordered drinks and Samantha rushed off, beaming at me before leaving. I turned to look at my company and found four faces staring back at me.

"Tony Stark," the man sitting across from me announced loudly, leaning across the table to shake my hand. "Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and super hero."

"I'm Major Carol Danvers, Air Force Pilot," I nodded respectfully, looking everyone in the eye.

"You're sitting beside Captain Steven Grant Rogers," Stark nodded at Steve, "and by my side is-"

The woman to his left, who had long red hair, slapped his hand. "I can introduce myself, thank you very much," she snapped. "Agent Natalia Romanova, but in the States I'm known as Natasha Romanoff. The original Black Widow," her smile was sultry.

"And I-" the lady across from her and beside Steve jumped up, "-am Janet Van Dyne. The Wasp," she nodded eagerly. "I designed the dress you're wearing." So that's why I had recognized her from the tabloids - she was the famous fashion designer. Interesting that she was an Avenger, too.

"Nice to meet you all-" I started.

Stark held up his hands. "Please, enough with the pleasantries. I dragged you here because the Avengers are seriously interested in Ms. Marvel. We had the Wasp," he looked at Janet, "tail you last night. She was impressed by what she saw."

"Yeah, but Jan's impressed by everything," the Black Widow grumbled; underneath the table, Van Dyne kicked her.

"Well, you impressed Sammy the other night, too, and her opinion's actually pretty important," Stark glared at the Russian. "I understand you were with the United States Air Force, and then NASA?"

"That's correct," I nodded.

"So, you see, that puts you in Captain America's good books, too," he pointed at Steve. "Cap loves anything that has to do with the army. Oh, boy. You should have seen these comics he used to draw when he was a kid, about the adventures of a soldier named Roger Stevens-"

"Now, Major Danvers, while we don't wish to pass the whole night talking about super heroes," Steve cut him off, "what Tony's trying to say is that we'd like to look into a partnership with you. We'd offer you training and testing, and potentially if you're good enough, you could become an Avenger. At the moment, we don't have any spots on the team, but we can still offer protection-"

"Hey, that's cool," I shrugged. "Working with the Avengers is the next best thing to _being_ an Avenger. But - why me? Why not Spider-Man?"

"Three reasons," Janet ticked them off on her fingers. "One, because you're much older than him. Two, because of your history working with the Air Force. Three, because he's more of a loner, whereas we believe you could profit with the help of a team."

"And you just . . . trust me? Just like that?" I furrowed my brow.

Tony faked a cough. "Well, no. See, that's why we brought Natasha in."

"I'm a spy," she explained. "I've had surveillance on you since you first appeared on our radar screen, and I basically memorized your entire life story before dinner tonight. I know everything there is to know about you, Ms. Marvel. I know what makes you tick; I know how you think. And from what I've found, you're a trustworthy ally and a warrior. We could use someone ruthless on the team," she glanced sideways at Janet, who was staring at an elderly couple out on the street.

"Well," I sat back. "I'm honored. And obviously my answer is hell yes. Thank you, really."

"Anything for you, Sugarkitten," Stark winked; I made a face, and Steve winced.

"Really, Tony? Is that the best term of endearment you can come up with?" he asked.

"There's nothing wrong with sugarkitten!" Stark looked offended.

"You don't hear me calling Sam that," he raised an eyebrow. "I call her honey, or dear, or babe, or . . ."

"Drinks!" Speak of the devil, Sam came up then with a tray of our drinks. She handed them out quickly, pulling out the notepad and pen again. "You guys ready for some munchies?"

Steve and I ordered the pasta dish, while the other two women both opted for seafood. Once Samantha made it around to Tony, though, she seemed to deflate a bit.

"Please order something normal this time, Tony," she sighed.

Steve chuckled softly. "Last time," he explained to me, "and twice before that, Tony ordered huge helpings of either the most difficult dish on the menu, or something not even _on_ the menu. Then, he typically has a bad habit of sending it back because it's 'not good enough.' Sam wasn't even supposed to be our waitress tonight, but Tony specifically requested her, probably just so he could beat her senseless with over-the-top orders."

Stark then proceeded to order something completely ridiculous (I'm pretty sure he made up half the name), and by the end of it, Samantha looked exasperated.

"How about something we actually have?!" she snapped. "The chimichangas are good, I hear Deadpool likes them-"

"No, Sammy, you order me exactly what I want," Stark sniffed.

"You're going to get me fired! This is the forth time you've done this!" she cried.

"If they fire you, Sammy, I'll buy the restaurant and re-hire you," he said.

"You can't do that."

"Actually yes, I can."

"Please just order something on the menu," she whined.

"There's no fun in that!"

"Aw, leave the poor girl alone," I cut in. "She's probably already exhausted from waitressing tonight. She doesn't need you picking on her."

Samantha grinned. "I like this kid," she punched me on the shoulder. "Let's keep her around."

Stark narrowed his eyes. "Fine, Sammy, just get me your largest combo." She flounced off, smiling.

The chit-chat was idle for a while until our food came; I got to hear many different things about the personal lives of some of the world's most famous heroes. Before long our food came, and Tony tried to send his back for 'being too dry,' but everyone at the table ganged up and made him eat it.

"I could very well bring Thor in here," Stark said to Samantha, who was looking more worn-out by the minute. "Last time I took him out to dinner it was at an all-you-can-eat 24-hour pancake house."

"Yeah, and they kicked him out at 3 in the morning, because he had literally eaten all of their food," Romanoff crossed her arms over her chest. "I should know, he called me in a panic to come pick him up, since you ditched at around midnight to hook up with some brunette."

"Please, for the sake of my sanity, don't bring Thor in here," Samantha begged. "Steve already comes once a week, and he practically eats us out of the kitchen, since his metabolism burns four times as fast as a normal man's."

"What about Banner? He technically eats for two," Van Dyne snickered.

"You know, you should really be bringing Hank and Clint down," Steve said, throwing in a few more names that I didn't recognize. "Between me, Thor and Bruce, there's no food left in the house."

"Clint lives off tea, so it's all good," Stark picked at his plate.

Samantha ran her hands over her face, smudging her makeup. "Well, you guys, my shift's over for tonight. Your new waitress is a woman named Bobbi Morse, okay?" Everyone at the table nodded. "Try not to give her too much hell, Tony."

"I save all that for you, Sammy," he winked. "Will you join us?"

"Nah, I gotta go home and check on my brother. Sorry," said Samantha. "Stevie - I'll see you there tonight, right?"

"I've got Avengers patrol until 3 in the morning," he said apologetically. "I'll try not to wake you when I get in."

"Thanks," she leaned across me to kiss him briefly on the lips. "Carol, it was nice seeing you. Good luck putting up with these loonies," she grinned.

"Thanks, Sam. You have a good night," I nodded, although I was a bit jealous of her and Steve's quick kiss.

As soon as she was gone, Stark got right back into business. "How did you come about your powers, Carol? You're not a mutant, are you?"

"What's the definition of mutant?" I sat back, drink in hand.

"Well, someone born with a mutation, or powers of some sort. None of the Avengers are mutants - we all came upon our powers by some other means. We weren't born with them. But, say, if Janet had a kid who inherited some of her powers, that kid would be a mutant."

I nodded, pursing my lips. "Right. Well, then, I'm not a mutant."

"So how _did_ you become Ms. Marvel?" Van Dyne narrowed her eyes, staring me down and looking rather foolish as she did it.

I sighed. "Kind of a boring story, really. So, I was in the Air Force, right? But I quit to join NASA. While working with them I was caught right in the middle of an alien explosion."

"What kind of alien?" asked Romanoff.

"Kree."

"What're Kree?" Van Dyne's face screwed up in confusion.

"An alien race with basically the same powers as Carol," Stark nodded, understanding. "A peaceful race, I might add. They have no quarrel with Earth."

"The explosion was an accident," I explained, "but yes, it gave me all the powers of a Kree warrior. My friend, the super hero Captain Marvel, is a Kree; he taught me how to use my powers."

"See, I _knew _you two were similar!" Janet jumped up. "Your powers reminded me of his, and that's why I named you Ms. Marvel! Ms. Marvel - Captain Marvel - get it?"

Everyone ignored her. "And then?" Steve's forehead was furrowed.

"And then I left to join the Air Force again. I'm with them right now, but currently on leave. I actually live a while out of New York City, near McGuire Air Force Base, but I'm staying in a hotel in Manhattan at the moment."

"That's it? No crazy family betrayal, no secret government testing, no life-threatening situation?" Stark asked. "Just an alien explosion?"

"Well, yeah, compared to you people it's not much," I admitted, "but look at me now. Taking on super villains when you're too busy."

Stark winked at me. "I like that. Modest beginnings make for a modest girl. How about you come back to my place, have a drink? Can't have the Big Apple's newest headliner staying in a hotel."

"Say no," Romanoff's eyes were hooded. "He's asking to hook up."

"I'm fine, thanks," I blushed. "I knew you were one of the world's most elegible bachelors, Mr. Stark, but I didn't realize you'd be so forward."

"Please," he grinned, "call me Tony."

Steve sat up a little bit straighter beside me, all business. "Major Danvers, if you're available, we'd like you to come by Avengers Tower tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, I'm not doing anything," I shrugged. "Why?"

"Hank Pym and I have developed a 'Danger Room'," said Tony proudly, "based off the one in Xavier's School for the X-Men. We need someone to test it on."

"It's a simulator, basically," Steve nudged me in the side. "A training room. We can tailor it to whomever's using it, from obstacles they must overcome to an entire projection or hologram of another world."

"Sounds fun," I nodded. "And you want to test me in it?"

Romanoff sat back, looking slightly bored. "So long as you're prepared to do some major ass-kicking; you've got to prove to us that you can beat this thing. I'd suggest a good night's sleep."

I grinned, and the Black Widow nodded back. "I'll be there."

* * *

"Jarvis, what the hell was that?"

"The doorbell, Mr. Stark."

"Since when do we have a doorbell?"

"Always, sir. No one's ever utilized it before."

"Well, remove it! Super heroes don't need doorbells, dammit!"

I stood outside Avengers Tower, my finger awkwardly pressing the buzzer for the penthouse that their main base of operations was in. When I pressed it, some sort of microphone must have been activated, as I had heard Tony's conversation with his poor butler.

It was the next morning and I had arrived at Avengers Tower, as per instructions. "Come on up, Carol, JARVIS unlocked the door and the elevator for you," Tony grumbled through the speaker. "I'll be waiting in the training room."

"But I don't know where that is-" I sighed, realizing he was no longer listening. I stepped into the building and onto the elevator, probably looking like an idiot. I was packed in along some of the men and women who worked on the lower floors of Avengers Tower. They were employees of Stark Enterprises, all dressed in suits and pencil skirts - and then there was me in my civvies, which consisted of a Yankees baseball cap, jeans, scuffed black Chuck Taylors and a red t-shirt. I certainly looked underdressed, but it was no big deal, because I had found recently that my powers let me morph straight into my Ms. Marvel costume.

After the elevator had emptied out I rode it up to the penthouse. The first thing I noticed when I stepped off was the view: you could see most of New York City from up there, and the Chrystler Building was just off to the left. The living room and bar were open, right in the entranceway; looking down a hallway I saw many bedrooms, and another hallway lead to meeting rooms and various other Avengers essentials, like a shooting range (apperently only used by Black Widow and Hawkeye).

I cleared my throat, noticing for the first time that Steve was in the room. I realized then that even though he was born back in the 1920s, Steve was still pretty young: young enough to be wearing Iron Man pajama pants, slung obscenely low on his hips. The position of said pants made it rather clear that he was going commando, and I _knew_ he had a girlfriend and I _knew_ I wasn't allowed to crush on him, but damn it to hell, I couldn't look away as I felt my skin getting hot and red. He wasn't wearing a shirt, either, as if that made my little crush any easier to handle.

Steve saw me and smiled. "Good morning, Major Dancers," he raised his glass of orange juice in my direction. His hair was messy in a sexy, I-just-got-out-of-bed way. "They were a birthday gifts from Natasha," he said, noticing that I was staring at his pajamas.

I shook myself out of my trance. "Why're you here?"

"I'm Captain America, I'm allowed to be here . . ."

"No, I mean, I thought you were going back to your apartment last night?"

"I had a late-night Avengers patrol shift, and decided to just crash here after," he shrugged. "Sam's brother already doesn't like me, and I'm pretty sure he'd only hate me more if I woke him at 3:30 in the morning when I walked in the door."

"Does Sam know you're here?"

"Yeah, Hank Pym texted her for me. I haven't yet mastered the use of text messages myself."

"Oh."

We stood there awkwardly for a second, before I noticed the sketchpad on the counter. "Do you draw?" I asked, trying to ignore the fact he looked like an Abercrombie model.

"Yeah, whenever I have a free moment," she shrugged. He held up the pad, showing me what he had been working on when I walked in. "It's just a landscape sketch, of Central Park in the snow."

"It's beautiful," I said, genuinely surprised by the amount of talent he had. "Wow."

"You here for that training thing?" he asked, straightening up.

"Uh . . . yeah. I'm supposed to meet Tony in your fancy simulator thing, but I don't know where it is."

"You nervous?"

I bit my lip, deciding it was okay to admit weakness to him. ". . . Yeah. A little bit."

His smile was kind. "That's fine. Everyone gets scared sometimes. Unless, you know, you're Thor." I laughed. "Just let me get dressed," he said. "I'll take you down there. Sorry for the . . . pajamas . . . I wasn't expecting a visitor."

"It's okay," I said, avoiding his gaze.

There was a loud banging sound from the elevator and Samantha stepped out, looking frazzled. "I just got into another fucking fight with Luke, and then I couldn't get a damn taxi to get my ass over here, and I'm tired and work is in half an hour but Bruce said he needs me here to run some blood tests, and Amora wants to meet up for lunch, and today just _sucks_," she said all in one breath. "Oh, hello, Carol."

"Good morning."

"No it's not," she said, stomping off down the hallway and making a lot of noise as she did it. "I'm going to the lab if anyone feels like ruining my day any more."

I turned back to Steve awkwardly. ". . . What was that about?"

"I think it's her time of the month," he shrugged. "Don't mind her. She gets like that sometimes."

Besides the fact I was still swooning over Steve, I couldn't help but say, "You two make a cute couple, you know that?"

He blushed. "Thanks, Carol. I appreciate it, actually. She's . . . I don't know. She's forgiving. I think that's why I love her."

"She loves you too," I said, thinking of the confession when we were with Spider-Man.

"You think?" Steve's eyes brightened, and I nodded.

"Now go get dressed," I waved him off.

Once Steve was gone, I stalked down the hallway, looking for Samantha and the lab she said she would be in. Instead, I heard her voice coming from a different room, and recognizing tones of panic, I kicked the door open.

Samantha was backed up against a wall, a large man pinning her there; his lips were on her collarbone and he had a hand between her legs. "Get away from me, Namor," she said, shoving him off with as much force as she could muster; she hadn't noticed me yet. "I swear to god, this is the last fucking straw. You let me go this _instant_ or I'll-"

This Namor character had pointed ears, pale skin and wore nothing but a green speedo. If he was an Avenger, he sure as hell wasn't acting like one. From what I could tell, he was trying to sexually assault Samantha. Who the hell did this guy think he was?!

I transformed into my Ms. Marvel costume in a heartbeat and hooked my arms around his, throwing him back into a wall. He was on his feet in a flash, and he lunged towards me; we crashed out of a window. _Ha_, I thought. _This poor sucker doesn't know I can fly._

But I didn't know _he_ could fly, _either_, until I noticed the tiny little wings on his feet. Namor flew straight into me, knocking me back into the room with Samantha. "That's enough!" she cried, throwing out her hand. A wall of wind pinned me to the ground, and although I could move, I couldn't get up. Namor was in the same predicament, but Sam pulled it together and released me, while keeping him on the ground.

"Thank you, Carol," her chest was heaving and her blonde hair covered her face, "but I can take it from here."

I didn't move.

"Namor, you are hereby kicked out of Avengers Tower," Samantha narrowed her eyes. "You've tried to rape me, you're preyed on Natasha, you insulted Cap and you've just been an all-around dickhead. I still don't know why we kept you are for as long as we did, Atlantean weaponry or not. But from now on, you are _out of here_. You assaulted a founding Avenger," she glared down at him, "and when you do that, you make a lot of people angry. We're going to keep this between you, me and Carol, all right?" She looked over at me. I tried to protest, saying that we really should tell someone, but she shook her head almost imperceptibly.

"You human scum, thinking you may treat Prince Namor this way-" he snarled.

"God, your ego is worse than Tony's," I said.

Samantha released him, pointing a finger at the man so he knew not to make any moves. "Leave. NOW. And don't come back."

His gaze was so filled with hate, anger and disgust that I very well thought it might burn holes in the wall. "So be it," he growled, and then flew off into the Manhattan sky.

"Have a nice life, asshole!" Samantha called after him. As soon as he was gone her eyes began to water, so I put an arm around her shoulder and led her to the bed.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently. "Did you get hurt?"

"No," she sighed. "I should've seen that coming - there have been enough hints, and besides, Tash and Clint have even tried to kick him out before-"

"It's not your fault," I said, letting her rest her head on my shoulder. "Who was that guy?"

"Prince Namor of Atlantis. He's supposed to be our ally, but I'm sorry, I couldn't put up with it anymore."

"You didn't tell anyone? How long has this been going on?"

"This?" she waved at the destroyed room. "First time. But he's been watching me since Day One."

"Hey, well, you're okay now, right?"

"Yeah. And, hey, Carol? Please don't tell Steve."

I let my mouth hang open for a moment in protest, but then shut it. ". . . Fine."

"He doesn't need to worry about a problem that's been fixed," she rubbed her eyes.

I sighed. "He certainly looked cute in those Iron Man pajamas."

My diversion worked; Samantha giggled. "I noticed, too. Virgin Steve, going commando in pajamas and not realizing it's driving us girls crazy."

"I have to go - I've got a meeting with Tony in that new training room," I said apologetically after a pause. "You coming?"

"Shit. No," she said, springing to her feet and grabbing a shirt off the ground. "I need to get a blood test done by Bruce, then I've got work," she frantically checked the clock. "Crap, I'm going to be late."

"Need me to give you a lift to the museum?" I smiled. "The skies are faster than the streets."

She looked at me, sitting in my Ms. Marvel costume. "Sure, Carol. Thanks."

"Anytime. You ever need anything, Samantha, you just have to-"

She smiled warmly. "You don't even have to finish the sentence. Thank you. I'm glad you're being tried for the team."

I smiled back. "Believe me - me, too."

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! I'm getting faster at updating ;) nah, it's just because the holidays are on. In any case, I don't know if I'll be able to get the next chapter up before the year ends - so Happy New Year! :D and I hope you've all been having very happy holidays/a very merry Christmas!**

**So, a lot happened in this chapter. We got to hear Carol's origins, and we saw the end of Namor. I can tell you, though, this won't be the last you've seen of him . . .**

**I personally believe I've succeeded in making Sam a non-Mary-Sue. She's selfish and can be overly sarcastic, but she would also do anything for her teammates and she can be kind when she wants to be. Not everyone likes her, either, like Natasha xD anyway, I know this means that half the time everyone's hating on Sam (and trust me, I do it too), but I think it just makes her a well-rounded character. Okay, sorry for the short rant :P**

**Thank you to all the wonderful reviews last chapter! They were all so, so great, and I can't thank you enough. Extra thanks to: _ClarinetRox88, Comiccrazygothgirl, Awareness, scott6130, GoForTehGig, Shadow Realm Triforce, , brandibuckeye, LunaTheLoneWolf, CeffylGwyn, InLoveWithTheRofue, 16, clarinetgirl628_ and_ roxxirox!_ Stellar feedback, and I hope to hear from you all again :)**

**Thanks again to everyone for reading, and please leave a review - I'd love to hear what you think! Once again, READERS ASSEMBLE, and Happy New Year!**


	14. Missing Love

Natasha Romanoff's POV

_"You can love someone so much . . . But you can never love people as much as you can miss them."_

_- John Green_

"Major Danvers, are you ready?"

"Hell yes. I was born ready."

"I'm serious, Major."

"So am I. And really, Steve, you can just call me Carol. Everyone can."

I walked into the control centre for the training room where Steve, Tony and Hank all were hanging out. It was a tiny little space with many computers and switchboards, and a large bay window that overlooked the training room. Down in it Carol Danvers, dressed as Ms. Marvel, stood. Her fists were raised, ready for combat.

"Configuration complete," Hank said to no one in particular, flipping a switch that turned on their pre-determined trial run for Danvers. "Major, your objective is to get to the other side of the room," he said, as panels started opening up in the walls.

Tony turned towards me just as the floor literally disappeared from beneath Carol. "Holy _shit_," he exclaimed, and Hank and Steve both looked up in alarm. "You cut your hair!"

"You've got bangs!" Steve's eyes were wide.

They were right, although they didn't need to make such a big deal out of it. Ever since the Battle of New York with the Chitauri and Loki, I had been letting my hair grow out. It was now almost long enough to reach the middle of my back, and just that morning I had gotten my bangs cut so that they now brushed my eyebrows.

"It looks great!" Steve smiled. "You look beautiful, Natasha."

"It's a good look for you," Hank agreed.

I blushed in spite of myself. "Yeah, Black Widow's been looking pretty sexy recently," Tony winked. "Say, why don't we-"

"Put a sock in it, Stark," I sighed, stepping further into the room. "Are you all just going to stand around gaping at my hair, or are you going to watch Carol train?"

The three men turned back to look out of the bay window. Carol was flying through the room with ease, dodging the pillars that popped up out of the floor or the laser gates that were meant to block her path. She was finding it much too easy, that I could tell. Tony smacked a button on the keyboard and guns began to shoot bullets at her, but she didn't waste breath trying to avoid them - she was bulletproof, and they bounced right off.

Carol got to the other side of the room and touched down lightly. "I'm unimpressed," she said, looking up in our direction as the obstacles disappeared back into the walls.

Tony gritted his teeth, fingers flying over the keyboards. "Fine," he grumbled. "Let's do this again. And try not to fly, got it?"

Now that Carol wasn't allowed to fly, she had more trouble getting through the course. Stuff was flying at her, robots were deployed to attack her, panels and floors kept moving, and metal arms like those of Doctor Octopus knocked her off her feet. All of the fancy training equipment still didn't put up much of a fight, though. She blasted through most of it, and hit what she couldn't blast with a powerful kick or punch.

"Put her in the compactor," Hank said, and Tony slammed his hand down on another button. Carol was soon trapped within a metal box, and the walls began to slowly close in on her. She punched right through one of them, forcing her way out.

This shocked Steve. "I've tried that exercise," he said, "and although I could hold the walls back, I wasn't able to actually push _through_ them."

"That says a lot about her, doesn't it?" I said. "You're at the top of human performance, Steve. What Danvers is is superhuman."

"D'you think she's as fast as me?" Steve asked. "I can run a mile in just over a minute." Hank turned the floor beneath Carol into a treadmill; to my surprise, she couldn't keep up, and had to hover above it before Hank turned it off.

We watched her for a few more minutes; Hank even tried to freeze her, but it didn't work. He sighed. "Looks like this training room isn't quite up to standard, Anthony. If she can beat it this easily, it'll need upgrades."

"Obviously," Tony snapped. "We already ran it through Cap, and he found it a breeze. I want a room that's going to _beat_ Cap."

"Good luck with that," Steve laughed, headlocking his best friend.

"Well, since we know we can't win, let's at least have a little fun," I walked over to the control panel and clicked away on the keys.

"What're you-" Hank looked up, panicking as a red light went off in the room.

"Deploying arc reactor energy," JARVIS said over the speakers. An energy beam was shot at Carol, and although it knocked her back a few feet, it didn't harm her.

I narrowed my eyes. "Hmm."

"What are you playing at, Tasha?" Hank demanded.

"JARVIS, hit her with the strongest energy blast we've got," I said to the AI.

"What? No!"

The computer did so anyway, and once again, Carol was unscathed. She seemed to glow with the blue light of the blast before it faded away, and although she looked tired it somehow made her seem bigger.

"JARVIS, put out Bomb 616," I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Agent Romanoff, Bomb 616-" JARVIS tried, but I cut it off.

"I know, I know," I pulled up a microphone so I could speak to Carol. "Major, there's a bomb sitting in the training room that'll destroy half the Tower if you don't do something. I'm perfectly serious."

She looked up at me and scowled as said bomb, no bigger than a hand grenade, appeared on the floor, raising up from a panel. Tony and Hank wrestled over the controls, trying to figure out how to stop it; Steve grabbed his shield and cowered behind it, peering out meekly to watch.

Ms. Marvel picked up the bomb and flew into the center of the room, wrapping herself around it - and letting it explode. The sound was deafening and the heat scorching; I swear, it could've melted the skin off my bones. That bomb was only supposed to be used in major emergencies, and it had been given to the Avengers by S.H.I.E.L.D; it was the most powerful smaller-than-a-loaf-of-bread bomb they had. But what I was looking for wasn't the explosion, it was the _energy_.

Explode it did, though, and it very nearly swallowed us up in a fiery demise when suddenly it turned tail and started to become smaller. The petals of the red and yellow flower started to fold back in as soon as it had burned away the walls of the training room. It became smaller and smaller, as if it was going back in time, until it took the form of Carol Danvers. She hung in the air limply, growing a bright orange, until she dropped out of the sky like a rock. Her skin continued to glow as she lay on the floor, but the explosion was gone.

"Oh my god," Hank turned to face me, horror and fury on his face. "Natasha, you could've killed us - you killed Carol-"

"She's not dead," I frowned.

We turned to look at her again as the flow faded. "Ow," she finally said, her voice filled with annoyance rather than pain. "Come _on_, guys. There's only so much energy a girl can absorb."

Tony began to laugh; I leaned back against the wall, smiling cockily. "I was just unlocking her full potential, Hank, dear."

"You knew she could do that? Absorb?"

"Of course. I'm not a fool. After stalking her for a few weeks, I've learned more than just what kind of shampoo she uses."

Bruce Banner burst into the room, bedhead and wrinkled purple shirt and all. "What happened? I heard the boom," he looked at the smoking walls.

"Nothing of importance," Tony reclined in a chair. "What's up, Doc?"

"Something that _is_ of importance," he took his glasses off and cleaned them obsessively. A smaller, waifish man peered through the doorway. "I think we're having a breakthrough with Sam's serum, and I need you two down in the lab," he looked at Hank and Tony.

The billionaire frowned. "Uh, we're kinda busy here-"

"Hello," I said pointedly to the man in the doorway. He smiled awkwardly, and Bruce pulled him in.

"This is the scientist we're working with, Doctor Christopher . . ." he kind of trailed off, glancing at Steve.

"Chris Silverman," Tony finished unabashedly. "Sammy's dad!"

"Oh. Well, nice to meet you," I shook his hand, although my tone was icy.

"And you are?"

"The Black Widow," I narrowed my eyes in a don't-mess-with-me sort of way.

"I'm Steve Rogers," Steve stepped forward, sounding a lot friendlier than I had as he, too, shook Silverman's hand.

"You - you're dating my daughter," the scientist said, sounding like he was in shock. He looked a lot like Sam: they had the same nose and a similar figure, although he looked like his could snap in two if I blew on him, whereas Sam didn't have that quality. He sure as hell didn't seem like the kind of man to use his daughter as a human guinea pig.

"What's this breakthrough you think you've got?" Tony said, kicking his feet up on the control panel; down in the training room, a dozen guns were suddenly aimed at Carol. She jumped, surprised.

Meanwhile, Silverman was peering hard at Steve, as if he wasn't really sure he was there. "How's my Sammers doing?" he quizzed Steve. "Is she healthy, other than the obvious? Is she eating well? Exercising? Is she going to school? Does she have a job? Do you live with her? How's she feel about you? How's Sammers feel about me? Does she talk about me? Are you two getting along? Are you taking care of her? You'd better be taking good care of my little baby girl. Speaking of babies, I better not be having any grand kids on the way, Sammers is too young and immature to be a mother, and I don't know if you're the right man to take care of her . . . Are you making love to my daughter?"

"I-I think we've got a cure," Bruce stuttered, interrupting the awkward tirade. "Chris found the unstable component in the original serum and compared it with Sam's blood, since we took a sample of it this morning-"

"How's she looking compared to last time?" Steve's brow was furrowed, and he ignored the way Silverman was staring at him.

Bruce paled. "Uh, Steve, we don't, I mean, it's not like we can just, uh, anyway, we think we have a cure, I said that-"

Obviously, this alerted Steve to the fact that something was wrong. "Doctor, I just want to know what's going on with her," Steve's voice was soft. "Is she going to be okay?"

Silverman gulped, and to my shock, replied. "She's becoming increasingly unstable, and the neurotransmitters in her brain aren't working correctly," he cleared his throat. "Now, she hasn't exactly had great mental health from the start, but-"

"Whoa, whoa, hang on there," Tony held up a hand. "What the hell does _that_ mean?"

Silverman paled. "Um," he glanced at Steve as if he going to help, but he looked just as confused. "Well, Sam's got a history of-"

"We're on the topic of Samantha? Good," a deep voice said from out in the hallway. "That's one of the things I came to talk to you all about."

"Silverman, meet Director Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D," I said, as the towering black man with the eyepatch and the trenchcoat stepped into the room.

"Who the hell is this?" he asked in a loud voice, staring down his nose at Silverman.

"C-C-Chris Silver-m-man," he stuttered, overwhelmed by Fury's presence. It seemed to me this man didn't have a lot of courage.

"Samantha Silverman's father?"

"Y-yes, sir."

Fury frowned. "You're the one who fucked that poor girl up."

"I thought you didn't even like Sam," I said.

"I don't. Doesn't mean I like this mofo."

Silverman looked about ready to faint. Sam obviously didn't get her strength from _him_.

"Anyway, I personally stopped by to give you _this_." He walked over to a control panel and slammed a briefcase down. Multiple buttons were pressed, and in the training room a legion of robots were released upon an unsuspecting Carol. Fury didn't even notice as he flipped open the briefcase, revealing five tubes filled with a clear blue mixture, carefully packaged in velvet.

"What's this?" Hank asked, standing.

"The Infinity Formula."

"What's it do?"

"Saves your sorryass life, that's what it does," Fury glared at each of us in turn with his one eye. "Haven't any of you ninnies wondered why I was the leader of the Howling Commandoes - my elite soldier team - way back in World War II, and yet I haven't seemed to have aged a day? I sure as hell didn't go through suspended animation, like the Capsicle over here."

"I thought Cap was the leader of the Howling Commandoes?" Hank questioned.

"What, now you've been stealing my credit?" Fury turned on Steve. "Captain America and Bucky were on the team, sure, but I was their damned leader. Cap was in charger of the Invaders."

"So what's this stuff do?" Hank picked up a tube gingerly.

"I told ya, it saves your miserable, worthless life. I was dyin' and some dumbass doctor injected me with it. Brought me back from the dead, practically," Fury crossed his arms over his chest. "It was a stupidass choice though because now I have to take it every year, or else I'll age rapidly and croak. Like, die croak."

I twisted my hair around my finger. "This is what's keeping you young, Fury?"

"I wouldn' say I'm not agin'," he pointed at me, "just that I'm agin' _slowly._ There's a difference, Agent, and you'd best remember that for future reference."

"Like me," Steve straightened up. "The Super Soldier serum makes me age slower than someone normal."

"Let's face it, most of us have life-lengthening chemicals in our bodies," Nick Fury shrugged. "Me, Cap, Natasha, Bruce," he looked over at me pointedly, "Bucky."

I blinked. "James has-"

"Sure, he's got the Infinity Formula."

"Since when?" I stepped forward.

"Since I gave it to him a few months ago!" Fury sassed me.

"You've made contact with him?" I asked, shocked. Steve pulled me back.

"Now's not the time to be talking about Buck," he said gently. "Why'd you bring this, Fury? To show off?"

"He's giving it to us to give to Sammy," Tony's eyes widened. "Isn't that right, Nick?"

The S.H.I.E.L.D director sat down heavily in a chair. "I heard she was dyin'," he sighed. "And you're right, Nat, I don't like her much, but I don't like _anyone_ much, not even Golden Boy," he jerked his chin at Steve. "But she's so young, and I was the one who pushed her to use her powers. I don' want to see her waste away. Especially not when my Super Soldier's sanity rests on her shoulders!"

"I've studied the Infinity Formula," Bruce cut in. "It won't cure her."

"But if she's about to _die_," Fury replied, "it'll keep her heart beating long enough for you to _find_ a goddamn cure, Doctor."

Bruce threw up his hands. "I don't even know what I'm doing, I'm an expert in _gamma radiation_, not genetics-"

"That's why you brought me in," Silverman said meekly, reminding everyone he was there. "Director Fury is correct. This formula will keep her from death, even if it isn't a cure. But it'll mean she has to take it once a year to keep up her health-"

"We have to talk this over with Sam before we use it," Steve said decisively. "I don't know how she'd feel about elongated life. I refuse to push it on her if it's not what she wants. She already struggles with her life now, as it is. And she doesn't like people sticking needles in her without her permission," he glanced over at Silverman.

"You do realize that if she doesn't take it, she's going to grow old and you're going to stay rather young, Captain," I said.

"I won't force her to mutate herself more!" he shouted, suddenly impassioned. "Everyone's always asking if she's okay and how she feels, but they never ask what she thinks about all these serums and formulas and fluids you're injecting her with!"

Everyone was quiet. Down in the training room, Carol finished off the last of the robots. Fury cleared his throat. "Point is, I'm leaving this with you. It's for emergencies only." He pulled out some papers from the inside of his jacket. "Moving on to another topic," his voice was more cheerful, "have any of you heard of the X-Men?"

"I think it's time for us to go," Bruce coughed awkwardly, grabbing the Infinity Formula briefcase and pushing Silverman out the door. Hank decided to follow, looking nervous as he passed by the director.

"I'll leave you big boys and girls to do your jobs," he bit his lip and shut the door behind him.

"The X-Men are that team of mutants over on the West Coast, correct?" Steve asked.

"Affirmative, Captain Rogers. Between the Avengers, the X-Men, and the Guardians of the Galaxy, the whole damn universe is pretty safe," said Fury. "Now, I'm not asking you to recruit Rocket Raccoon - but I think it's time the Avengers became a bit more diverse. Professor Charles Xavier has contacted me and request I look into a partnership."

"Of course, we'd be happy to work with them-"

"I mean, Captain, that he wants an X-Man on the Avengers team." Steve frowned, and Fury went on. "It's time for a little diversity, don't you think? Xavier wants a mutant on the team to promote mutant-human peace and relations; to show that they're not trying to kill us, they're trying to save us. If the Avengers approved of the X-Men, that would set the mutant movement forward by a huge step. People already look up to the Avengers. Plastic Captain America shields are flying off the shelves, 30 per cent of little boys in New York State were Iron Man for Halloween this year, women are holding Black Widow spy parties, and I can personally guarantee you that that woman down there," he pointed at Carol in the training room, "is going to single-handedly quadruple the sale of thigh-high boots. You have a huge web of influence. USE IT."

Tony snatched the papers from Fury's hand. "So what are we looking at here? X-Men who want to join the Avengers to represent the _homo superiors_?"

"Precisely," Nick Fury grabbed the papers back. "First up: Hank McCoy, also known as Beast-"

"We've already got a Hank. NEXT," Tony cracked his knuckles.

Nick sighed, obliging. "Emma Frost, the White Queen. She's a telepathic-"

"I've heard that name before," Tony peered at the picture. "She's hot. Stick her in the maybe pile."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Cyclops or Scott Summers, a mutant with-"

"I heard he's boring, and a drag to have around," Tony huffed. "No fun at parties."

"There are numerous applications here, put together by Xavier," Fury flipped through them all. "I'll leave them with you three to look over. You need someone who'll contribute to the team, but who still has things to learn. Sound simple enough?"

"Yeah, except we've already sort of got a mutant on the team," Steve admitted. "Prince Namor. The Sub-Mariner."

"Please," I scoffed. "He bailed on us barely an hour ago." Everyone looked at me, wide-eyed. "I'm not kidding. Namor's long gone. I saw the security footage; he broke a hole in Sam's wall." I snapped my fingers at Tony. "Speaking of which, that needs to be fixed."

"Fuck, we need him!" exclaimed Tony. "He knows how that Atlantean weaponry crap works, he's a good ally-"

"Trust me, we're better off without him," I thought of his creepy tendencies that had made all the women on the team uncomfortable.

"We will not want him as an enemy," Steve said darkly. "I watched him literally rip a man in half once."

Fury got up from his seat. "I need to go. The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't get much time to listen to Avengers bickering," he snapped. "So long, suckers."

Just as he walked out of the room, Tony's Stark Phone beeped. He pulled it out and to my surprise a hologram of Agent Maria Hill was projected into the centre of the room. "You just missed Fury," Tony said, without greeting.

"I'm calling about a Priority One Avengers Alert," she said. "I know Hawkeye and Wasp are out on patrol right now, but we've got something big going down at the New York Stock Exchange." Hill was replaced by security footage of a woman in a red bustier with cropped red hair, attacking bystanders and firing a gun needlessly. Behind her were three men dressed in ridiculous snake costumes. The screen glitched and went to static, before coming back on.

"What you're seeing is live," Hill exclaimed. "Hawkeye is tied up with something else, but Wasp is on her way. She'll need backup."

Something flashed across the screen, running into the woman. Gunfire was everywhere, and my eyes widened when I saw the sweeping arc of a metal arm, crashing down across the woman's face.

"James!" I cried, leaping up. It was Bucky, I knew it. Although I could barely see the screen, I just _knew_ it had to be him. He was back in Manhattan.

"Natasha, wait!" Steve cried, but I was already out the door and sprinting out into the hall and down the staircase. The Quinjet needed a copilot, and I didn't have one of those - so I would take one of Tony's cars. No, even faster - Steve's modified Harley Davidson motorcycle. He wouldn't mind if I borrowed it for a bit, would he?

My heart pounded in my chest at the prospect of meeting James again. Long ago, I had told Loki that love was for children. But after watching Sam and Steve, and after my own love came back from supposed death, I was beginning to re-think it. James had managed to earn the Black Widow's love, and that was not something easily let go of. His return only made the aching in my bones stronger.

Superhero relationships had never been easy. Look at Janet and Hank, for example. There was _something_ going on behind closed doors with those two. Sam and Steve were always about to collapse. Susan and Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four had to deal with Reed's work and his aloofness. And James and I - our relationship had been on-and-off because he had been placed in cryogenic state so often.

I had been stalking him ever since I knew he was alive, following him through S.H.I.E.L.D surveillance cameras and newspaper articles. If I pieced it together, it was simple enough to see that James was trying to redeem himself for the heinous acts he had committed as the Winter Soldier. Although he hadn't exactly been in complete control, in his eyes, he was guilty. That was enough to send him across the country these last few months, taking out underground A.I.M, H.Y.D.R.A and R.A.I.D facilities, fighting with rogue Russian and Soviet agents, and even running into the mutants in San Francisco a few times. Information had been hard to gather, since technically James "Bucky" Barnes was dead, but Clint had helped me. I was campaigning to get my Bucky back.

I roared through the streets of Manhattan towards the stock exchange, tourists seeing such a brief glimpse of me that they didn't even have enough time to snap a picture. I had a helmet on, but my red hair streamed out behind me, and my catsuit was recognizable enough as I weaved between cars and even rode up onto the sidewalk a few times. I didn't bother getting off the bike when I made it to the Stock Exchange. Instead, I rode right through the glass front door, and it shattered around me in a shower of tiny crystals. I leapt off the bike and let it slide away, engines still running as I tucked and rolled into an offensive position.

Men and women were cowering under desks, and a few hostages were being held in the back of the building. Some of the poor executives were hanging from the ceiling by their wrists, a man in a green snake suit watching over them. Two more snake-men patrolled the other hostages. The action was over near the back wall, where I could clearly see James fighting with the redhead woman.

"Go! Go! Get out!" I shouted to the civilians closest to the door as one of the attackers came up behind me an I elbowed him in the face, breaking his nose without turning around. Now that we were closer, though, I recognized him from S.H.I.E.L.D files: Eel, a member of the Serpent Squad who would electrocute you if -

He flailed out a hand and grabbed hold of my shoulder, sending a shock of electricity through my body strong enough to send me tumbling to the ground. I used my new position to swipe out a leg at his, making him tumble as he lost his grip on me. Teeth still shattering from the jolt, I punched him straight in the face hard enough to knock him right out.

"Black Widow!" someone called out, and I turned to see James running towards me, Ginger on his heels. I knew what to do.

I crouched low, raising my hands above my head. James grabbed onto them and we interlocked fingers as he flipped over me; using his momentum I then did a back-walk over him, kicking Ginger in the chin as I flipped. James and I ended up chest to chest, still holding hands.

"Duck," I said calmly, and he did as I asked so I could swipe a leg over his head and hit Ginger across the face, since she had gotten back up.

"Below you," he said just as evenly. I used all my strength and momentum to propel him beneath me on the floor, between my legs and behind me; he slid right into Viper, another villain standing in the room. The three members of the Serpent Squad, a trio of villains that dressed like snakes, seemed to be behind the attack: Eel, Viper, and Cobra (who was watching the hostages hanging from the ceiling). Then there was the random ginger lady.

James pulled Viper down to the floor, and Viper managed to shoot James in the arm with his poisonous stinger attached to his right arm. He hit James right in the bicep, and it wouldn't been fatal if James's arm had been real - Viper had gotten him in the bionic arm, and the poison sizzled and dripped off the metal. James punched him in the stomach with that arm, and then slammed Viper's head against his knee.

Suddenly, someone latched onto my back, their legs wrapped around my waist as they unsheathed a knife from out of nowhere. I blocked the stab with an arm as the knife arced down towards my chest, and I grabbed the wrist. I deployed one of the Widow's Stings on my wrist, a tiny shock that was sent through my attacker - the redhead.

She recovered quickly, unsheathing another knife.

"I got one! Eel, c'mere, quick! Kill the bitch!" she screeched in delight, and I ran backwards into a wall, crushing her between my back and the wall. Her grip relaxed and I ripped out of it, turning to elbow her in the jaw and twist her arm behind her back.

"Have you ever actually fought someone who knows what they're doing, or just innocent bystanders?" I spat. She bit me, so I tightened my grip. On the other side of the room, James was making quick work of Viper and the still-dazy Eel. Cobra was nowhere to be seen.

"I wasn't looking for you, Widow," she sneered, spitting the hair out of her mouth. "I was looking for _Masquerade_. Is she too chicken to come out during the day?"

I moved my arm to headlockaround her neck, choking her. "You that crazy kid who attacked Osborn's penthouse?"

"The name," he coughed, fingers desperately trying to remove my arm, "is Sin."

"Right," I rolled my eyes. "And you have some sort of vengeance against Masquerade?"

"Yes," she let her tongue hang out. "And you're _interfering_."

Somehow, one of her hands had gotten loose, and she produced a knife that scraped a deep cut in my thigh. I pushed Sin away, blocking each of her attacks with the knife and shooting back a few more of my own, using my Widow's bracelets. James was trying to free a few of the hostages at the back of the room just as Wasp flew in, staring down at the unconscious Viper and Eel on the floor.

Sin's eyes widened and she panicked, realizing that she was now outnumbered. She lunged for the front doors, running out of the building. "Wasp, get the hostages hanging from the ceiling!" I cried, as Janet was flying around at full size; she nodded as I picked Steve's bike up from under a table.

Revving it up, I followed Sin onto the busy Manhattan streets. It was a disaster. She was pushing her way through the crowded sidewalks, bellowing and shooting anyone who got in her way. I counted three bullet injuries by the time we had gotten down one block. But I gained on her, and soon I had pulled up beside her.

Sin glanced over and, amazingly enough, leapt right for me. She almost knocked me off the bike, but instead regained her balance and stood on the back seat. I stood too, facing her, smacking a button that Tony had installed; one that let JARVIS take over control of the bike.

Sin's hair flew around her face as her eyes lit up; her arm came down in a sweeping arc, another glinting knife in her hand. She scratched along my stomach, slitting open my suit. I kicked her in the groin, but she didn't even flinch.

"You're not a part of this, Widow! I'm going to a Masquerade party, not an espionage meeting!" her grin was terrifying. The bike lurched to the side, and we both almost stumbled off it.

"What do you have against her?" I shouted over the roar of the wind. "Are you working for the Enchantress?"

"Not the Enchantress," she shook her head. "Someone else. Someone _dead_. Someone who wants to see Captain America suffer," she threw up her arms. "Because suffering is what he does best!"

My eyes widened, recognizing the words. "No. You can't-"

"Oh, but I can," she tenitivly stepped toward me, grabbing my face in one hand and turning it from side to side. "I'm going to hurt Cap's girl, and then I'm going to hurt his children. It's the children that carry on the legacy, no?"

My eyes widened in horror as Sin lightly traced the knife over her own face, pretending to think. "Now, what sort of legacy could _I_ be upholding?"

I leapt off the bike, tucking and rolling into a hot dog stand by accident. JARVIS, recognizing that I was no longer in control of Steve's bike, crashed it into the nearest building. By the time I had made it to the wreckage (oops) Sin was nowhere to be found.

When I returned to the stock exchange, the hostages were down from the ceiling and people were spilling out into the street. I was searching for James among the faces when something with the force of a truck knocked me down.

"Janet?" I gasped, looking up at her sitting on my chest. "What's going on?"

"Death to America!" she screamed, and I rolled my head to the side just in time to avoid a blast from her Wasp's Sting. "Down with the Avengers! No more Black Widow!"

I swore in Russian, something I only did when I was seriously confused. Civilians crowded around her, chanting the same horrible mantras. A few of them held bats and bricks, and slowly they turned on each other, trying to smash in heads.

"Down with the Avengers," Janet growled, grabbing my head in both hand. I felt her hands begin to heat up with her Wasp's Sting, and just in time James appeared, pulling her off me with his bionic arm. He knocked her back, sending her careening into a potbellied man smashing a car.

"What's going on?!" we asked each other at the same time. I tilted my head to the side. "Why aren't you-"

"Back!" he cried, and we automatically turned back-to-back so that we had someone watching every angle; we were protecting each other, just like old times.

"James, we're surrounded!" I said, looking at the dozens of rioting civilians surrounding us, slowly advancing.

"Excellent!" he replied, in typical Winter Soldier fashion. "That means we can attack in any direction!"

"Don't hurt anyone," I clarified. "They're just normal people-"

Cobra came out of nowhere, punching me across the jaw. I spat blood out, turning back to kick him in the stomach; he fell into the crowd.

"James, do you have any idea what's going on?" I asked, as someone picked up a brick and threw it at my head. I caught it mid-air and lobbed it back.

"Cobra set up some sort of machine and turned it on. Then all of a sudden, everyone went mad."

_Mad._ That was it. He'd set off a madbomb - once of those Atlantean devices that caused everyone in the near vicinity to riot. That was why Wasp had attacked me. I relayed this to James as we circled slowly, adding "Why didn't it affect you?"

He shrugged. "Infinity Formula that Fury gave me, probably."

Huh. I wondered if it would have the same effect if we gave it to Sam.

"We need a plan, James," I said. "We've got to stop this riot and get Wasp back to Avengers Tower-"

"There is no 'we', Tasha," he said darkly.

"What? But I thought-"

"You need a lift?" I turned to see Thor, Iron Man and Ms. Marvel all floating in the sky above me, Thor swinging his hammer.

"No, James and I-"

"James?" Ms. Marvel's face scrunched up. I turned to see nothing but Janet Van Dyne, fighting the potbellied man. The Winter Soldier was gone again.

"Riot police are on their way, Natasha. Thor and I will subdue Janet," Tony's voice rang through the Iron Man suit. "There's nothing we can do here except turn the machine off - which JARVIS has already done - and wait for the effects to wear off. Ms. Marvel will take you home."

"But - but James - he was right here!" I cried, kicking back Cobra absentmindedly. "We fought together - like old times - Cap would've loved - James was here!"

"C'mon, Widow," Ms. Marvel swooped down to pick me up. "Seems like you got hit in the head with too many bricks."

I sighed, defeated. James had eluded me once again.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey guys. Sorry this took forever to put up. Holidays were wrapping up and then school was starting, so life's been busy. Anyway, I'm going to try and get better at updating in this new year. Happy New Year, everyone! :D**

**Thanks to my wonderful reviewers, who made the holidays that much better: _artemisROSE, Lady Firewing, Shadow Realm Triforce, CeffylGwyn, brandibuckeye, GoForTehGig, Awareness, erica . phoenix 16, InLoveWithTheRogue_ and_ clarinetgirl628_! I hope to hear from you all again soon :3**

**Please review and let me know what you think; I've missed you guys! Until next time, and READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	15. Do Without

Tony Stark's POV

_"Use It Up, Wear It Out, Make It Do or Do Without." _

_– Unknown_

"Tony, I am _not_ comfortable with this."

I looked over Kat's shoulder at him. "Relax, would you? This is the 21st century. Wake up, Grandpa."

Steve sat in his chair, his back ramrod-straight as he tried to shrink away from the beautiful girl giving him a lap dance. His expression was a mixture of horror and apology. "I want to leave. _Now_."

"What's wrong with your friend?" Kat asked me, grinding against my hips as she put her lips to my ear. "Does he not like girls?"

"No, I have a _girlfriend_, that's what's wrong," Steve's face was bright red. The blonde sitting on him pouted, removing her shirt. Steve looked shocked. "Okay, that's it," he said, picking her up like a doll and sitting her down on her ass on the floor. "I'm done." He got up and stormed off, staring pointedly at the floor.

I swore. "Fuck. I can't lose him, Kat, I'm sorry. He's terrible with directions in Manhattan, and I'm supposed to be babysitting."

"But _Tonyyyy_-"

"Some other time, honey," I stuck a twenty in her bra. She got off me and let me walk off, trying to find Steve.

Okay, so _maybe_ it hadn't been the best idea to bring the 90-year-old virgin to a strip club, but I thought he would've liked it . . . nah, who was I kidding. I knew he'd hate it. I just wanted to go there myself.

I was stuck looking after Steve for the night so as to make sure he didn't get in the way of our Avengers plans. Sam was finally doing her Amora shit - getting 'kidnapped' or whatever - tonight, and we didn't trust Steve to leave her well enough alone. Therefore, I was stuck watching after him. And it was damn difficult to find something that would entertain Steve, especially since he didn't seem to like the strip club.

I found him in the alleyway behind the sleazy building, kicking a garbage can. "What'd that hunk of metal ever do to you?" I asked, walking up behind him.

"That was disgraceful, Tony, bringing me in there," he snapped, turning on me. "You could have at least _warned_ me before that poor girl started getting all intimate."

"You're such a spoil sport."

"No, I'm a good person. Aren't you supposed to be with Pepper?" he narrowed his eyes.

I threw up my hands. "Please, I wouldn't be a playboy if I only stuck with one woman my whole life. Pep and I are on-off."

Steve crossed his heavily-muscled arms over his heavily-muscled chest. "Well, Sam and I _aren't_. She's not going to be a happy camper when she finds out about this-"

"That's why you don't tell her, obviously," I knocked on his forehead. "Hello? Anyone in there?"

He grew angry suddenly. "You don't _get_ it, Stark!" he yelled, using my last name. "You're always laughing at me and my chivalry and you act like women only talk to me because they want to get into my pants. I mean, I don't mind the attention, but I'm trying to _make_ something of my life, not become _Mister Anthony Stark_." I flinched, and he kicked the garbage can again. "I might be old fashioned but that's just the way I am! I don't understand why all the women nowadays are so eager to please men like you when all you do is use them and leave them!"

I blinked, speechless for once in my life. I mean, yes, there were a million snappy comebacks I could say - but why? What was the point? If I couldn't be honest with Steve - my best friend - who could I be honest with?

I sighed, actually sitting down on the dirty alley ground and looking up at the soldier meekly, like a small child might. "When I was 12," I picked up a pebble from the ground and turned it over in my fingers, "I decided I wanted nothing to do with love, or any of the messy business associated with it. I have nothing against it, but I've seen 'love' happen so many times, from my parents and their blank smiles to the angry couples I pass on the street. Relationships - well, they might start out full of promise, but ultimately they're a useless exercise, as far as I'm concerned." I chucked the pebble at the wall. "Everyone ends up alone, one way or another, and it isn't worth the trouble."

Steve stopped kicking the garbage can. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Tony," he said, his voice still icy.

"You're angry, Steve. That's okay. You never seem to let your anger out, but you should. Really, you'll turn into the Hulk if you don't. Hit the wall. Hit it, Steve." He frowned, confused. "I said _hit it_, goddammit!"

He tapped it with his fist, still looking like he wasn't understanding something.

I stretched out my legs in front of me. "You're mad that I brought you here, even though you have a girlfriend and you're in love with her. You're mad that she's dying. You're mad that her brother hates you. You're mad about that new Sin woman who is apparently trying to hurt you. You're mad that you're _this close_ to losing everything - _again_. You're mad about Sam's anger issues, you're mad that I act like a jerk, you're mad about Amora, and you're mad that you still haven't gotten the hang of this century yet. _Hit the goddamn wall, Steve_."

He punched a hole straight through the brick, just like I had expected him to.

"There. Do it again," I ordered. He punched a new hole. "Again." This time he used his left fist. "Again." Dust hung in the air. "Again. Again."

He stopped once his face was no longer red and he didn't look like he was going to hulk out. "Now, didn't that feel good?" I asked.

He frowned. "I damaged public property."

I stood up and clapped him on the back. "That's my Stevie."

I led him out of the alley, onto the busy Manhattan street. Now I felt guilty about bringing him to the strip joint: Steve deserved romance and warmth and an actual relationship, and that was what he had with Sam. Who was I to try and change it?

"C'mon, I know somewhere we can go down in Brooklyn," I pulled out my Stark Phone, calling my limo. "And it's not somewhere that'll put a strain on your relationship with Sammy, I swear." My limo, which had been parked in a nearby parking lot, pulled up. We got in, Steve looking wary. "You professed your undying love for her yet?"

He hook his head. "Can't find the right moment," was all he said, and we passed the rest of the ride in silence.

* * *

"A church? Tony, is this a joke?"

"Of course not," I sniffed. "It's Christmas, Steve. Time to get into the spirit of Jesus and all that."

"I thought you were an atheist," he said as we got out of the limo and walked up the path to a church in Brooklyn.

"I am. But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the stories."

Inside the church, it was quiet. The room was hushed. It was dark in there, and the only light came from a few lit candles. A priest was at the front of the room, and there were some people sitting in the pews. Up near the priest was a wooden scene of the birth of Jesus. There was more light on that than the rest of the room.

Steve, who was Christian (although he didn't talk about it much), sat down in the back row, looking humbled. "I remember this church," he said to me softly as I sat beside him. "When I was just a skinny kid, a 60-pound weakling, I tried to sell newspapers to make money. Mama and Papa were poor, you know. So I tried to help out at home. But the other boys would throw rocks at me and beat me up so they could take my papers and sell them themselves. They got the money and I got a bloody face. I used to come to this very church," he bowed his head, "before going home. The priest would clean the blood from my face so Mama wouldn't find out I was getting picked on."

I stared at Steve, shocked. "You don't talk about your life before Project: Rebirth very often," I said. "You talk about the war. But not your childhood."

He seemed to struggle with what to say next. "It was a tough life, Tony. I don't mean this offensively, but you could never understand it. My childhood was during the Great Depression and I came of age in a war. My first few years as Captain America . . . the war was practically all I knew. I grew up in extreme poverty with Irish immigrant parents during the twenties and thirties. I lived on nothing. I went to bed hungry and I never got toys. Mama was the best mother I could ever have asked for, though - she took care of me. I was always afraid that one day I'd go home and she wouldn't be there, but it was a needless fear. She taught me that when we fall, we must always stand back up," he stared down at his hands. "Papa was good, too. Went through a bad alcoholic stage before the war, but Mama set him back on the right path."

I suddenly sat up in astonishment. "Are you crying, Steve?"

He wasn't, but his eyes were watery. "I was just thinking," he sniffed, "of the one time Mama caught me with blood all over my face." He wiped his eyes. "It's probably hard to believe, sometimes I actually forget that I'm a man out of time. I forget sometimes . . . just for a moment or two . . . that I should be an old man by now. I mean, it's not like I have much downtime anyway. Or like my duties have lightened up at all."

"See, that's the other thing about you," I said thoughtfully. "You keep your anger bottled up, and you keep your sadness bottled up too. You can be much too serious . . ." I trailed off. "You okay?"

"No," his voice was low, and he hung his head.

"I - uh," I awkwardly patted him on the back.

Steve sniffed. "Both my parents died in the war. I accepted their deaths long ago. I didn't even rely on them that much, since they couldn't afford to give me much anyway. All we had was each other. But sometimes I miss them, you know?"

"I do, actually," my eyes glazed over. "Both my parents are dead, too."

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry. I forgot."

"It's okay," I continued to rub his back. "We weren't a very close family. Apparently Dad loved to talk about me and what I was going to do with my life, but not once did he ever say 'I love you' to my face. You knew Howard. He was tough. Didn't like showing emotions."

"He was a good man," Steve nodded. "I'm sure he did love you, Tony, very much."

"Yeah, well, he and Maria - my mother - died in a plane crash a while back. I've always fended for my own, but even more so since then. Stark Industries is booming because of me. I'm more than they could ever have dreamed of. And you are, too," I added. "Can you imagine if your parents could see you now? You're single-handedly stopping terrorists and super villains. Steve, you're the moral centre of our universe. Heroes aspire to be like you. They'd be so proud."

"Your parents, too," he looked up and smiled, his eyes still watering.

"Yeah, but my parents always knew I was going to be great," I winked. "Yours probably never thought their skinny little Stevie would become the greatest soldier in the country."

He wiped at his eyes. "Don't say that. There are hundreds of men laying down their lives for our country, a lot of them braver than I. You don't know what kind of heroic acts they could be committing. Just because I wear the flag doesn't mean I'm the greatest."

I laughed. "Typical Cap," I patted his back once more.

"But you, Tony, you're something special," he said. "Me, I mean, when I've got the helmet on, I'm one of the most recognizable faces in the world: Captain America. No one knows that behind the mask is Steve Rogers, a kid who grew up almost a century ago. Back then, we didn't have iPods, or iPads, or Stark Phones, or iAnythings. In fact, the nearest phone was down the street at Ed Carlton's drugstore," he chuckled. "Captain America is a relic from the past. But Iron Man - he's the shining knight of the future."

"Oh, stop. You're making me blush."

"I'm serious, Tony! People always say 'March to the beat of your own drum.' But you broke your drum and left it blue, grey, brown, bruised and bleeding on someone else's doorstep. You've done your own thing entirely."

"I've never really believed in many things," I admitted. "Me and Santa? Please. And me and God? I mean, we may be in a church, but forget it. Sure, I've met a few . . . But there are only two things that I've ever really believed in. Firstly, myself," I ticked it off on my fingers, "and even then, only about 50% of the time. Secondly, the future. The future is my job, Steve. _I_ work to make it better. _We_ work to make it safe. Iron Man and Cap are a perfect blend of past and future."

"Forget the past and you're doomed to repeat it," he nodded, "but you're right, we're doing what we do for the future. For the next generation."

I snorted. "Remember that one time we were saving a family from a burning building, and I flew in to the top floor to pick up the little boy?"

Steve laughed. "You flew him down to me on the street, and he was crying 'Help, Cap! The robot's got me!' We actually make a good team, Tony, when we're not bickering like an old married couple."

"Say, you ever think about having kids? A sickly little child of your own?"

Steve smiled softly. "I guess. A little. Sometimes when I see kids on the street, I can't help but wonder if I'm ever going to be a Papa. I'd want my kid to call me Papa," he clarified.

"I can see you having a little boy," I admitted, "who thinks you're the coolest guy around. After me, of course. Or a little girl who sees the world in you. I'm sure she'd love it if you taught her to draw, Steve."

"Yeah," the corner of his mouth drew up. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

I slumped down in the pew, breathing in the dusty smell of the church. "I've thought about having kids. Well, having minions that I can teach my ways and force to become like me. But then I do a reality check and realize I'd be the worst father ever."

"I don't know, Tony," he looked over at me. "You can be bearable sometimes. Like right now. I like this."

"That's my cue to leave!" I jumped up. "Let's go say bye to Baby Jesus."

Up at the front of the church, we leaned awkwardly over the manager filled with hay. The wooden baby in it was losing its paint color.

"One of its eyes is bigger than the other," Steve remarked."

"It doesn't have a nose," I added. We looked at each other and suddenly burst out laughing. The priest kicked us out, of course, and the other people in the church shot us dirty looks.

We trudged through the knee-high snow outside, walking back to Steve's place, which was only a few blocks away. "You know," said the muscular blonde, "speaking of the past and of children, I've been having these really weird dreams lately."

"Yeah?"

"The Red Skull's back, in my dreams. And I have a son, right? But the Skull kills him. Along with half of whatever city we're in, of course," he breathed in deeply through his nose. "But it's unnerving to see the Skull back. It makes me wonder if he really _can_ return. He was destroyed by the Tesseract, and I bet you it's powerful enough to bring him back."

"The Tesseract is up in Asgard, where no one's probably even _heard_ of the Red Skull," I tilted my head back to look up at the night sky. Clouds and the city lights blinded the stars from my gaze.

"I know. I just get worried, that's all. I don't even want to think about what he might do in this century, if he came back." We reached the flat he shared with Sam. "Who he might hurt."

"You and the Skull are kind of a special case, Steve," I stopped to turn and talk to him. "I know I just said he's not coming back, but you're the kind of pair that's going to be locked in eternal combat."

"I know it sounds weird," Steve shifted his weight awkwardly, "but I feel kind of _restless_ without him around. Like there's a storm coming, and this is the calm before."

"Steve, we've got the goddess Amora on our trail. It's anything _but_ calm."

He glared. "That's not what I meant. It's just that something feels missing. Like there's a piece of the puzzle we're not getting. It may not be quiet, but it's still _too_ quiet."

My expression was grim. "Let's hope it stays this way."

Up in the flat, Sammy's younger brother Luke was slumped on the couch, watching The Walking Dead on TV. Steve nearly had a heart attack when he saw all the zombies on the screen, and Luke and I spent a good ten minutes explaining to him that it was just a show before he let it go. In the kitchen, Steve started cooking a box of pasta for the three of us.

"Hello, Lukie. Can I call you Lukie? I call your sister Sammy. I'm going to call you Lukie," I said decisively, flopping down on the couch beside him. The teenager looked slighted disturbed. "I hear you're not a Captain America fan," I said slowly, craning my head to look back at Steve, who was watching the pot on the stove in the kitchen.

Lukie crossed his arms over his chest, not taking his eyes off the man being devoured on-screen. "He's . . . bearable. I just want him to leave my sister alone."

"But is that really _your_ choice?" I asked, tapping my foot.

"Yes. No. I suppose not."

"Why do you want him to leave Sammy alone?"

He still wouldn't look at me. "It's his fault she's an Avenger."

"Why is it his fault?"

He paused, and doubt briefly flashed across his face. "Because Sam is only staying around for him," he said slowly.

"Why?"

"Because she . . . loves him?"

"Why?"

"Because she's an idiot."

"Why?"

"Because she's a girl with stupid illusions."

"Why?"

He finally looked at me incredulously. "Why is she a girl?"

I pointed a finger at him. "What you said was sexist, by the way."

He shook his head in disgust. "Steve Rogers is sucking the life out of my sister and putting her in danger and I don't want to lose her like I did my dad," he said all in one breath.

I leaned forward. "Do you really think it's _Steve_ putting Sammy in danger? Or is it her own choice?"

He got up, stomping off towards his room.

"Think about it, Luke!" I shouted after him. "Do you really think Steve's _happy_ she's in trouble? Don't you think he'd rather keep her from doing all the super stuff? She's too stubborn! Like you!"

"Fuck off!" he slammed his bedroom door. Steve appeared in the kitchen doorway, a wooden spoon in hand. "Tony!" his tone was harsh. "What did you do?"

"Played Therapist," I shrugged, lunging across the couch for the TV remote.

Steve shook the spoon at me, speaking in a quieter voice so Luke couldn't hear. "He is a _severely depressed_ teen, Tony, and you have to be careful what you say around him. Anything could tip him over the edge."

"Isn't he taking meds?" my voice was dull.

"Oh, crap." Steve went to knock on Luke's door. "Luke, you need to make sure you take your medication for tonight."

"I hate you. Go away."

"Jeez, he's worse than Sammy on her period," I shrunk down in my seat, flipping to the news. Steve whapped me upside the head with the spoon.

"Breaking news," a busty brunette woman on the screen was saying. "On the corner of 58th and Broadway Street there is a large riot, although the motives of the mob are unknown. It seems to be meaningless, much like the riot earlier this afternoon at the New York Stock Exchange. Daily Bugle Broadcasting is taking you live to our field reporter. Garret?"

She was replaced by a shot of an Asian man with a large jaw, standing in an office building. "Thank you, Andrea. I'm in a building on Broadway a few floors up for personal safety, as the mobs down there are destroying everything they get their hands on. Windows are being smashed, cars flipped, and small fires started. Everyone has turned on each other. Dealing with the mess right now is a SWAT team, a riot control crew, Spider-Man and three of New York City's finest superheroes: Thor, Black Widow and Ant-Man, all Avengers. Reports also say the new heroine Ms. Marvel has been spotted helping Spider-Man. We still don't have a source for this riot, or the one earlier today-"

I muted the television set, turning around to see Steve watching from the kitchen. "58th and Broadway," he said dully. "That's the intersection that Avengers Tower is on."

"It must be a madbomb. Someone's sending us a message," I picked at my lip.

"Sin and the Serpent Squad," Steve came over to sit beside me.

"Serpent Squad's in custody. Must be Sin by herself. I'd say we should go help, but it honestly looks like things are going fine," I pointed at the images on the silent screen.

"This Sin person confuses me," Steve tapped his chin with his wooden spoon. "Tasha had a chat with her earlier today. Said that Sin claims to be Sam's ultimate enemy - her Red Skull, her Green Goblin. But Natasha also told me that Sin's real objective is _me_. Whoever she's working for wants _me_ to suffer. They're trying to make me hurt by hurting those around me."

"Who's 'they'?"

"Tasha knows . . . but she wouldn't tell me," he huffed. "Says we've got to deal with Amora first before she goes and starts another war with just a handful of words."

"Sounds to me like we're going to need to keep an eye on the people closest to you. Like me, for example," I winked.

"So far, it's only Masquerade who's been attacked. They must not know my real identity."

I turned the television off. "It's funny that way, isn't it? It seems like on the surface, everything has to do with poor Sammy. But really, motives are so much deeper. She's just the weak link; the vein people use to get to the rest of us. We've all got our own personal stories, and she connects a lot of them. She's changing us all."

"I've got to deal with this mysterious Sin woman," he ticked it off on his fingers, "Thor's got Amora, you have your stupid daughter business, Bruce and Hank have locked themselves in the lab to find a cure for her, Natasha's obsessed with the Winter Soldier, _something_ is going on between Hank and Janet, and Hawkeye's just . . . Hawkeye," he shrugged. "Namor's run out on us, and Major Danvers is dealing with all these new superhero responsibilities."

"And you are _also_ trying to deal with new boyfriend responsibilities. Like cooking." I pointed at the kitchen. "Your pasta's probably turning to mush."

Steve ran into the kitchen to try and fix it, while I got up to go to the bathroom. When I walked in without knocking, though, I stumbled upon Luke, standing over the toilet. I hadn't seen him walk in there while I was watching the news.

Luke had his bottle of anti-depression pills in his had, and floating around in the toilet were three of those pills. He looked up at me in shock, slamming the toilet lid down and trying to shove the bottle in his pocket. He failed, and the whole thing spilled over the floor. Luke stared up at me, eyes wide and terrified.

"Please don't tell my sister," he blurted out.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, brow furrowed. "You're flushing your pills down the toilet?" He was quiet. "How long have you been doing this? Since the beginning?" Again, he was quiet.

I ran a hand through my perfectly coiffed hair. "You know, just because you have to take drugs doesn't mean you're weak. That's what this is about, isn't it?"

He slumped down on the toilet seat. "I-I come here, and I see Sammy surrounded by all these buff and strong guys who don't seem to ever get anything wrong, and I think 'Why can't I be like that?' Maybe she moved to New York because I can't be the brother she needs, I'm not strong enough, I'm her weak and annoying little burden with mental problems." His eyes filled with tears.

I crouched down in front of him. "Luke. I'm not the best person for inspirational talks, but _come on_, man. Taking meds doesn't make you weak. And your sister didn't move because you're not 'good enough'. She missed you like hell, and that's why she took you in as soon as she heard you weren't doing so great. Am I right? You're perfect to her."

He waved his hands at the pills on the floor. "But th-they're not natural. I should be able to fix this by myself. I don't need help."

"Bullshit. Telling people about your depression is the best thing you could have done. I'm not an expert on the matter, but the anti-depressants should stabilize you. It's not weak to admit you need help."

He pulled his knees up to his chin, looking 12 years old rather than 17. "How would you know? You're Tony Stark. You never ask for help. You're perfect. _Steve Rogers_ is perfect. He's everything I can't be."

"That's why you don't like Steve?" I asked, incredulous. "Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how many health issues Steve used to have? He was 90 pounds when he was in his early twenties, and he was _always_ sick. He got rejected from the army four times because of his health issues. He had," I took a deep breath, "asthma, scarlet fever, rheumatic fever, high blood pressure, heart trouble, chronic and frequent colds, sinusitis, palpitations and pounding of the heart, easy fatiguability, nervous trouble, a parent (his mother) with diabetes, and household contact with tuberculosis. I got to see his original health forms from before Project: Rebirth," I winked.

"When he was a little kid," I went on, my thoughts returning to our talk in the church, "Steve got picked on on a daily business. Kids would throw rocks at him. His parents were poor Irish immigrants, his father an alcoholic, and they could barely afford to feed him. Steve tried to sell newspapers to make some money for his family, but the other children would beat the living _shit_ out of him," I emphasized, "and he had no way to fight back. He'd walk around with blood all over his face because he was too stupid to run away from a fight."

Luke's eyes were no longer watering; instead, they were wide. "I had no idea," he gasped.

"You think Captain America's perfect? Far from it. You think his life's easy? Not a snowball's chance in hell. He's lost everything he has _multiple times_ - not that it was much in the first place. Your sister is the first thing that's ever really been constant to him, and yet he still fears losing her."

"But I blamed him for . . . I thought it was his fault she's in the Avengers."

"Oh, it is," I began scooping the pills off the floor, "but indirectly. She's staying because of him, but he doesn't want her to. Steve doesn't want to put her in danger, since he knows how easy it is to lose the thing closest to you."

Luke pouted. "Now I feel like an asshole."

"You think _you_ were bullied? Try growing up in the Great Depression with kids throwing punches at your face just because they were bigger than you." I straightened up, putting the pills back in the bottle. "Will you promise me you'll take these? They don't mean you're weak, Luke. They mean you're strong enough to admit you've got a problem."

He stared at the bottle in my outstretched hand for a long time. "Fine," he finally sighed, taking it.

"Now let's not breathe a word of this, okay?" I mussed up his blonde hair. "I don't want my reputation to be ruined. 'Tony Stark, helping someone? Tony Stark, giving a pep talk? Tony Stark, neglecting to talk about himself for a full three minutes? What are the other signs of the apocalypse?'"

Lukie actually laughed, thank God. "Thanks, Tony. Sorry I acted like such a jerk."

"Don't worry, kid."

"I just - I feel like it should be me taking care of Sam, y'know? I'm putting too much pressure on myself, I guess. She's got all her mental problems, and that's why I want to help her, but I have literally worried myself sick about it-"

"Wait," I said, my hand on the doorknob. "Mental problems? Your dad mentioned something about that, too."

"You've been talking to my dad?!"

"No, you're going to tell me right now what this is about," I leaned against the door, blocking his exit.

Luke seemed to shrink. "Um. Well. Sam's probably the one who should tell you-"

I glared at him.

He sighed. "She, uh, has Dysthymia and Acute Stress Disorder. She had a really hard time in Junior High with bullying and such, and she's never really been the same since, especially with Dad using her like a lab rat and whatever the hell it is that happened in Rome," he waved his hand around, not unlike Sammy did. "ASD means she can be really socially detached sometimes, and really cold-hearted, while her Dysthymia is a case of persistent mild-to-severe depression.

"She's gotten good at hiding it," he admitted. "But it's there. If you knew her as well as I do, you'd be able to see it. I think sometimes she can't cope with reality," he made motions with his hands for emphasis. "She makes up her own little worlds in her head to deal with what's going on in her life. She may seem like she's paying attention to something, but she's actually locked away in a corner in her head. She has trouble differentiating between what's real and what isn't. At least, that's what I think," he shrugged. "I guess it's not that surprising that I got depression, too, since it can be passed on genetically . . . but, y'know. It sucks. I want to by a psychologist, and study this sort of stuff - maybe even cure my sister-"

There was a knock on the door. "Tony? You in there? Pasta's ready," Steve's voice rang through, a reminder that there was someone else in the house, completely ignorant to this new information.

"I need to get to the lab," I said, flinging the door open once Steve was gone. "There are some adjustments that need to be made on her new serum," I said decisively. "Gotta run, Steve, sorry," I called into the kitchen. "Luke," I turned back to him, "thank you. And don't do anything stupid. Take your meds."

"What are you going to do?"

"Fix your sister's brain," my voice was grim. "We can only have so many mentally ill people running around. Am I right?"

"Where is she now?"

My expression darkened. "She's playing bait for Amora the Enchantress. What, did you actually think she might be doing something low-risk for once?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey guys, how's it going? This'll just be a short note today.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I held off on posting this chapter for a few days because I was missing some of the regular reviewers. Hope you guys come back, I miss you all :( in the meantime, thank you to the wonderful people who _did_ review: _CeffylGwyn, Shadow Realm Triforce, Comiccrazygothgirl, brandibuckeye, erica . phoenix 16 _and_ InLoveWithTheRogue_! Thanks for sticking by me, everyone :)**

**By the way, guys, I'm a huge fan of foreshadowing. Just in case you hadn't caught on yet ;)**

**Hope you liked the chapter! It was a bit fluffy, but I had fun writing it. Anyway, thanks for reading, and please leave a review this time :P READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	16. Inferiority

Samantha Silverman's POV

_Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance. _

_- Sun Tzu_

* * *

_Pain. Pain in my abdomen. Pain in the core of my body. Worse than anything I've ever felt. Tears fall, but they don't seem to be enough. Nothing will ever make up for this pain._

_Natasha Romanoff stands above me, a blood-soaked knife in her hand. Her face is blank. Calm. Unemotional. She did what had to be done, but as I lie there looking up at her, my hands covered in blood, I think I see indescribable sorrow hidden in her face. A pain that mirrors my own._

_I forgive her. I have no choice. But can the others? Can they really put this behind them? Can they forgive her as easily if they truly know what she's done?_

_I guess they just can't find out._

I woke up, gasping for breath. My sweaty hair was plastered to my forehead but there was no pain in my belly, and Natasha was nowhere to be found. _It was just a dream_, I told myself. _A gut-wrenching nightmare. Nothing more_. My face was pressed to hard stone floor; my body twisted in an awkward angle. The first thing I noticed was the cold. Then the dark. It was as if I was lying in a void.

How did I end up there, lying on that stone floor? What time was it? How long had I been out for? _Why_ was I there? It came back in bits and pieces. I was Samantha 'Stark', and that night I had gone out to a movie with Amora. Deeming it distasteful halfway through, we left. We had just been passing through a back alley behind the theatre when I blacked out.

Was this it, then? Was this Amora, finally putting her supposed kidnapping plan into action?

My question was answered soon enough. A door opened, and someone picked me up and dragged me out of the dark room, into the light of a hallway. It was the Enchantress herself, come to collect me.

"Samantha," she said coolly. "Glad to see you have awakened from your slumber."

I took a good look at her - and her new outfit - in the light. "Whoa. Someone call the fashion police," I scrunched up my nose.

"Glad to see you can still make bad jests, too," she said dryly. Amora wore a skimpy green corset and a green miniskirt, but at least underneath that she wore black tights with green circles on them. Her hair was long and curly, and she seemed as if to glow with a pearly light. She wore a green wimple, and I had to admit, it was actually kind of cool.

"I suppose this is a kidnapping?" I sighed wearily. "Happens all the time, you know, since my dad's Tony Stark-" I droned on.

"A civil kidnapping," she said coolly. "You have been asked to join us at the dinner table."

"'Us'?"

"My . . . employer. And lover," she picked me up from the ground. "Walk, you pig."

"Oh, shit. You're working with someone?" I wasn't expecting that.

"Yes, and for safety reasons . . ." she grabbed my wrist, lifting it up in the air. Before my very eyes, I watched as she weaved an intricate silver bracelet out of thin air, and it clamped around my wrist. Not gonna lie, it was a nice bracelet - but _why_?

I posed the question aloud as she dropped my wrist. Amora walked ahead of me, green cape billowing out behind her. "It's a power clamper," she said breathily, as if it was no big deal.

"Oh. Damn," I said, trying to turn my hand into water and failing. Well, at least it meant I wouldn't be going all unstable on her ass- "Wait, what? I don't, uh, don't have any powers. Unless being rich and famous counts," I tried.

She glanced over her shoulder at me tiredly, as if I was boring her. "The masquerade tattoo on your wrist gave it away," she sighed delicately. "I know who you are, Stark."

I found that sentence so ironic that it was all I could do to hold back a giggle. Still - this was bad news. Now that I couldn't rely on my powers, I needed to get out of there before I got in too deep.

Well, I could start with Plan A: turn tail and run like a coward.

I did so quietly and Amora didn't even notice until I was halfway down the hall, sprinting away from her as fast as my Chuck Taylor-clad feet could take me. Behind me, a green circle of light formed around her hand and she aimed it straight at me. The green light hit me square in the centre of the back and I tumbled to the floor, trying to scramble back up. She pointed both hands at me and a long, thick trail of more green flew out, knocking me down again. Amora twisted her finger through the air and suddenly green bars of light appeared around my body, strapping my arms to my chest. With a flick of her finger she sent me up from the floor, floating a few feet off the ground. I tried to break out of the bars, but they were like iron. I couldn't move an inch.

"You cow," she spat. "I am Amora the Enchantress, the most powerful sorceress from Asgard. Your friend _Thor_ may have heard of me. And there is nothing you can do to try and escape my magics."

"Why are you here?" Some of my hair had found its way into my mouth and I spat it out, probably looking like a complete fool.

"Ooh, Thor loves Midgard so much - I came to see what all the fuss was about."

"Put me down, Enchantress," I snapped, glaring at her. She rolled her eyes.

"You mortal worms are pathetic." Flicking a wrist, she sent me floating down the hall after her while she went on walking.

Amora threw open a set of double doors at the end of the hallway, and I was brought into a lavish dining room with food absolutely covering the table. A handsome man with gorgeous cheekbones sat at the head, and as he looked up to smile at me my jaw dropped open.

"Loki?! _SHIT_-"

Amora slammed the doors shut, releasing my bonds and dropping me to the floor. I fell on my ass, shocked at seeing the God of Lies once again. "Please, Samantha, come sit down. I will not bite," he smiled cheekily.

"Uhh . . . umm . . ."

"How are you? I have not seen you since the Battle of New York."

"Yeah, you were kinda locked in a jail cell on Asgard, as far as I was aware . . ."

"Until the lovely Amora let me out, of course," he reached for the goddess. Her lips curled up in a self-satisfied smile as she sat down upon his lap, stretching her long legs and kissing him on the cheek. She whispered something seductively in his ear, staring at me all the while, and he laughed.

"Get up, Samantha, darling," Enchantress crooned. With another zap of magic from her fingers, I was lifted from the floor and plopped down in an empty chair. "We just want to talk. The fun will begin after."

"So, let me get this straight," I tried to regain my composure. "Amora, you sprung Loki from His Royal Jail, and you two came . . . here? To Earth?"

"My business upon Midgard was cut rather short last time, if you remember," Loki's tone was icy. "I am here for a higher purpose. Do you remember, Masquerade? That purpose is _freedom_. It is life's great lie."

I frowned. "You know, I never actually heard the full story of why you attacked Manhattan. I guess you just weren't . . . _important_ enough to be mentioned," I smirked.

My head was slammed against the table by an invisible force. "You will speak to us with _respect_, mortal swine," the Enchantress's voice was hideous; it grated against my ears like fingernails on a chalkboard. "We are gods, and we will not tolerate lowly beings like you for long. I do not understand why Thor stays near you all," my head was smashed against the table again. "You are beneath him. He protects your worthless race, and none of you thank him, even though you are undeserving of the Thunderer's protection! Thou showest not the proper respect due to heroes! Midgardians are jackals, biting and snapping at the hand that feeds them and keeps them safe."

"That is enough, my love," Loki touched her hand, and the force holding my head down was released. I reached up to find that my nose was dribbling a little bit of blood. "I am here to free you from freedom. It is the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave sudjugation."

"Dude, I don't even know what that means."

He went on. "The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power."

"Humans were made to be ruled," Amora narrowed her eyes. "We are not here to borrow the planet from the Avengers, or to scuttle and burrow in its shadows. We are here to rule it."

"Fuck that shit, I can do what I want!" I slammed my hands down on the table and stood up. Amora's magic sat me back down, which was kind of embarrassing. "Humans don't need to answer to some emo whiny second-rate Thor."

Amora turned to Loki. "How can you tolerate this woman speaking to you like that? It is time she learned her lesson, no? Learned what it really means to be in the presence of a god?"

Loki ignored her, leaning forward. "But you're bluffing, aren't you, Masquerade?" he began to laugh. "You understand me. You know what I'm talking about. You _get_ it."

I avoided his gaze. He was right, though. I did understand what he meant, sort of. We spend our whole lives trying so hard to be 'free' that we forget about the other stuff. Like when I moved to Rome: I went because I was trying to be free from my powers, and because of that, I lost everything. The price of freedom had been too much.

That didn't mean he was _right_. It didn't mean humans were 'made to be ruled.'

"But I can see right through you too, Loki," I leaned forward as well, our faces mere inches apart. My voice was soft. "All you ever wanted was to be accepted. To be as respected as your brother. And so you started to lie. But then the lying got out of hand, didn't it? And so you had to bury the voices in your head of your conscious hitting ground. You lie not because you want to, but because you _need_ to." His confident expression started to crack. "You just want to be _loved_, Loki. And guess what? Ruling over a bunch of people by force isn't going to give you that satisfaction."

The Enchantress lunged across the table for me, wrapping her hands around my throat. I fell over backwards, dragging her and the chair down with me. We rolled underneath the table and she pinned me down with her knees, shaking me. I ripped her hands from my throat and tangled my own hands in her hair, pulling it. I kicked her in the stomach and she fell off me.

"Foolish women!" Loki cried, storming out of the room in a flurry of cape. He grabbed his precious golden reindeer helmet, which had been sitting on the table, on the way out. I scrambled out from under the table and grabbed a chair, bringing it down over the Enchantress's head when she, too, crawled out from under. The chair broke, wood splintering with a loud _crack_. She collapsed to the floor, but then pushed herself back up right away. I grabbed one of the broken wooden legs of the chair, holding it out in front of me like a sword.

When she stood, I swung it like a baseball bat, hitting her smack across the face. It cracked against her head and she slammed against the table, spitting blood out of her mouth. Amora grabbed a handful of porridge and flung it at my face; it landed in my blonde hair and in my eye.

"Gross!" I grumbled, wiping it out. She lunged for me, knocking us both back to the ground again. _I don't have nearly enough training for this_, I thought as I pulled back my elbow. I sent my fist flying for her face and it connected, hurting my knuckles like a bitch but probably hurting her a lot more. I have to confess, I was pretty proud of that punch. Amora may have been all magicked-up, but right now my regular old human street-fighting was keeping her too busy to cast a spell on me.

I groaned and pushed her off me, grabbing wildly for the table. I missed, and instead clutched onto the tablecloth; falling back down to the floor, I brought the cloth and everything on it down with me. Every single pot, pan, plate and crumb of food came crashing onto my head. "Ow," I said in a dull tone, completely annoyed. The tablecloth covered me like a ghost, and I became too tangled up in it to find a way out.

"Well, fuck me," I grumbled, fighting with it. Somewhere to my right, Amora started laughing manically. I just couldn't find my way out of the damned tablecloth, as embarrassing as it sounds. That was when I noticed the bracelet still on my wrist; the little silver one Amora had conjured. I ceased my struggling to try and pull it off, but it didn't work. It twisted around my wrist uselessly. I groaned, somersaulting around in the tablecloth as I wrestled with the bracelet. Finally, I bit into the metal - but was interrupted when by entire body was paralyzed.

The sheet flew off and Enchantress lifted me up into the air, dropping me on the table and wrapping more of those stupid green energy bands around me. I sighed, not even trying to escape as she drew a circle in the air, swiping her hand over it. "Unfair," I pouted.

A window of sorts opened up, and I found myself staring at Tony Stark, working on something in the lab. Amora cleared her throat, and Tony jumped. There must've been a magic window in the lab, too; one that he could see us through.

"I thought you would be interested to know that I have Masquerade in my custody," the Enchantress tittered.

Tony squinted at me. "Why do you have food all over your face?"

I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I will return her to you _alive_ in exchange for information on the Avengers," Enchantress crooned. "Alive - but maybe not in very good shape."

Her green light flashed in my face, snapping my head back. I groaned at the whiplash, shooting a nasty glance at Amora. She blew a kiss and I was thrown against the side of the wall.

"You have until midnight, Stark, or we'll get to see just how mortal your daughter is," she sneered, closing the window-portal. Amora walked over to where I sat with my head lolling uselessly on my shoulders, and she kicked me in the face with her black boot. I spat blood out of my mouth angrily.

"Why do you even _want_ information?" I struggled to ask. The green bars disappeared from around me, and I slumped to the floor. She put her boot to my throat.

"It's not for me. It's for my employer," she sighed.

"Loki?"

"No . . . _his_ employer."

"Crap, there's someone else?"

"Who did you think organized the Chitauri attack?" she crossed her arms over her ample chest. "His name is Thanos, and he is the Mad Titan. Not that that will mean anything to you. He is a foe of the Guardians of the Galaxy."

"You mean, like, Rocket Raccoon and Drax the Destroyer?" I tried to concentrate on our conversation, but it was hard to breathe. I think I had a few cracked ribs, and my hand was screaming in pain. I might've shattered it.

"Thanos and Loki are working together because they both have goals they want to be met. Loki wants to be a ruler, and Thanos . . ." she trailed off. "The Mad Titan has much more personal reasons for targeting Midgard. Midgard is the most sexy, dangerous jewel of the galaxy, and whoever gets their hands on it is the winner of all things," Amora explained. "I am merely an extension of their plot."

I struggled to my feet. "So it's not going to end with you?"

I didn't give her a chance to respond as I pushed her boot off my throat with my shattered hand, and used the other one to push myself up. From there, I pushed her; she fell over backwards into the table as the pain in my hand reached an unbearable level. I stumbled onto one knee.

Amora touched her fingers to her face, finding blood there. She leveled her gaze at me, and put the forefinger and middle finger of her other hand against my forehead. "Sleep."

I dropped to the floor like a rock as the pain faded away, but darkness didn't completely engulf me. Instead I floated through a world of memories, just tiny little glimpses into the dark. Short scenes of moments that changed my life, and even some moments that weren't so important.

The first one wasn't much. Just one rainy summer day in Manhattan. I was having a Lord of the Rings movie marathon with Steve at Avengers Tower that started right after breakfast. Four hours later, Tony walked in to find us both fast asleep on the couch. Apparently I snored like a chainsaw.

There was a change of scene, and I saw myself when I was five and I skinned my knee. My best friend Penelope was there, and she got scared and called the police.

Another change. This time I watched the famous Masquerade and Captain America kiss as it happened, after the battle with Ultron. The kiss that was seen 'round the world.

The scene cut to something else. "You're playing a B, Samantha. You're supposed to be playing a C," my Grade 9 band teacher yelled at me as I blew on my saxophone uselessly.

My memories played through one day last summer, when Steve and I tried to play basketball. He was terrible, there's no other way to say it. Eventually he just gave up and started hugging me whenever I had the ball.

Middle school. The day Mark first asked me out. And then the day we broke up, in Grade 12. Harry Potter movie premiers. Recitals and sports games. The multiple times Steve called me because he had forgotten how to use the microwave. My favorite restaurant in The Second City - Chicago. Family vacations to the Caribbean or Europe. Straight-A report card. My trip to Florida with Penny and Dana. Each memory flashed through my head, barely a second long.

There was big stuff in there, too, like when Dad injected me with the serum. The time I burned down my high school. The Avengers first forming; our first battle; my first date with Steve. Our fights, our kisses. Rome. Luke. My unstable powers. Christmas shopping.

And then everything changed. Suddenly the scenes were flashing by much quicker, and they were no longer memories. They felt familiar, but I didn't recognize any of them. Each was so short that I barely got a glimpse.

Captain America and Iron Man, fighting over a 'Superhuman Registration Act'. Something called M Day, when a woman named the Scarlet Witch depowered 99% of all mutants. The Siege of Asgard. Steve, teaching a little girl that looked like him how to draw. The Skrull invasion. Norman Osborn, taking over the Avengers. Two blonde twins that again looked like Steve, running around Wolverine's school for mutants. Cap, lying dead on the steps outside of a courthouse. Sin, always Sin, fighting with me. Luke, a general in the army. Sin again, her knife through my chest. Masquerade and Samantha Silverman, suddenly two different people. A wedding. An 'Avengers vs. X-Men' war. My best friend Wanda Maximoff, who was even more mentally unstable than I. Everything was all out of order.

It ended with the same scene I had woken up to: Natasha, standing over me with a bloody knife, and an unspeakable pain in my abdomen.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone, and welcome back! ****If you're wondering about most of that stuff I mentioned in the last little paragraph, it's foreshadowing - of a certain type. The Superhuman Registration Act, M Day, Skrill Invasion, Siege of Asgard . . . all that stuff is from the comics. I won't be getting into it, so just forget about it. That paragraph was an Easter Egg for my fellow comic readers ;) although I _did_ admittedly add a line or two of foreshadowing that might show up in this series . . . ;D**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Still missing a lot of the regulars :( but thanks to those who did leave a comment: CeffylGwyn, brandibuckeye, erica . phoenix 16, Shadow Realm Triforce, roxxirox, ClarinetRox88, Awareness, Comiccrazygothgirl and InLoveWithTheRogue. Thank you all so, so much :D**

**Next on Silver Flames: Carol helps Clint move into an apartment! Rogue shows up in Brooklyn! Hank lashes out at Janet! And a cameo appearance from the Winter Soldier ;) **

**Thanks for reading, and remember to leave a review! READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	17. Waiting

Carol Danvers' POV

_We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us.  
_

_– Joseph Campbell_

"Okay. This looks bad."

"Uh-huh," I nodded.

"Like, _really _bad."

"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" I asked.

Clint Barton sat on the floor in front of me, sweating like a pig. "Nuh-uh. It's all knots." We both stared at the mess of red, green and black wires in front of him.

"C'mon, Clint," I urged him on. The clock kept ticking steadily.

He wiped the sweat from his brow. "Screw it. I think I'm just gonna cut it."

"_Cut it_?!"

"The green wire," he opened and closed the wire cutters in anticipation.

"You're going to cut the green wire," I repeated in disbelief.

"What?"

"There has to be a better way."

The clock kept ticking down the seconds. "Probably. And yet." He sighed, wiping away the sweat again. He snared the green wire in the cutters, looking apprehensive.

I said, "Clint-"

He cut the wire.

I shook my head. "Why'd you call me over if all you were going to do was cut wires?"

"Well, I don't know, you seemed like the kind of person who could help me untangle this mess," he poked at it with the wire cutters.

We were staring at Clint's tangle of Christmas lights. Obviously he hadn't been very organized when he put them away last year and now they were all knotted up. I had been watching him try to untangle them for the last half an hour, I kid you not.

"I seemed like a . . . wire-untangle-r," I shook my head. "Whatever you say, Mister Barton. You do realize you destroyed one of the strands of lights by cutting it, right?"

"I was trying to untangle the mess, and figured it could be a sacrifice!" he gave up, throwing the cutters down and standing. "Let's try something else. Want to help me set up the TV? If you can figure out how to turn it on, I'll pay for your dinner."

I still can't believe I agreed to spending the evening with him.

Sure, Tony Stark had said I should start "getting to know" the other Avengers. And sure, it had seemed like no big deal when I promised Clint I'd help him move into the new apartment he'd bought down in Brooklyn. But I didn't know it would be so damn hard.

"I'm just tired of living in Avengers Tower," he said to me when we first met up, earlier that evening. "As if it isn't enough that everyone else has superpowers, everyone else has a _house_, too. I'm just poor homeless little Clintie," he pouted. "Sam and Steve live in Brooklyn, Tony's got a mansion, Thor has an entire realm, Tasha lives in Carnegie Hill, Jan and Hank live off in New Jersey . . ."

"Bruce Banner lives at the Tower," I had tried helpfully.

"Only because there's a lab just five steps away from his bedroom," Clint scowled. "_I'm_ the one who gets stuck scooping up Batman and Trooper's poop." He noticed my confused expression. "Sam's cats."

"Oh."

"Avengers Tower is supposed to be our safe haven when the team needs to get together and have a giant sleepover either because we're fighting crime and saving the world, or because Steve needs a modern movie education. It's not supposed to be a permanent home."

That was why he was now renting an apartment in East New York, Brooklyn, New York: fifteen minutes from Sam and Steve's place by car, and forty minutes by public transit. Clint wanted to be close to Sam, I think, who he thought of as a little sister.

Unfortunately, it also happened to be one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the city. It was run by crime bosses and mobsters. Somehow, though, it didn't phase Clint. He didn't mind. He just wanted a cheap place he could rent.

We had brought all the boxes of his stuff up from the car, and it was now spread around the apartment. He had just moved in, and yet he already needed to clean the place. There was clothing everywhere, since he had skipped the organizing and gone straight to Christmas decorating. Don't ask. He was even wearing a red Santa Claus hat.

"I think we should get a tree, Carol," Clint was saying as he tried to plug in the television.

"There's no 'we' here, Clint, I'm sorry," I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck. It was freezing cold in the apartment, and I wore my puffy red peacoat and gloves, along with a scarf and two hats. Outside it was snowing softly, obscuring the graffiti-covered walls of the buildings outside. "I'm just helping you move."

"Oh. Right. Well, I think I should get a tree," he said self-assuredly.

"You do that, honey. I'm going to finish organizing the kitchen so I can make us some food. I'm starving," I picked my way through the various boxes. "It's getting late, you should probably make up your bed . . ."

"I'm just gonna sleep on the couch tonight," he shrugged. "And I was going to order pizza for us."

"You are the _worst_ moving buddy," I cracked a smile. I was actually starting to enjoy this time with Clint, the eccentric fletcher who had been a founding Avenger.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door. I went to get it and opened it to find a small Asian family standing on the doorstep. They were all smiles, staring up at me.

"Hey, Clint, c'mere," I shouted back into the apartment; he cursed as he banged his head on something. He hobbled over, waving awkwardly when he saw who was at his door.

"I assume you're the new couple that's moved in next door?" the father asked, his English only slightly marred by a light Chinese accent.

"Oh - no," I shook my head. "We're not - we're not a couple. I'm just a friend," I tightened my scarf.

"I'm the new guy," Clint cracked a charismatic smile, shaking the man's hand.

"We're your neighbors," he bowed, introducing himself, his wife, and his three children. "Here - a housewarming gift. We made you dinner."

"Wow," Clint took the plastic bag from the man, astonished. "Wow. you so much. This is a huge help."

"No problem. Anytime."

"You don't want to be making that promise," I muttered under my breath.

"You babysit at all?" the wife asked. "We're always looking for a babysitter. Our three kids, they-"

"Hey, I'd be glad to," Clint nodded, probably still in awe that someone had given him free food. "I'll scratch your back, you scratch mine."

We all shared a good laugh, and then said goodbye. As soon as the door was closed, Clint ripped open the plastic bag to find a pot of hot stew inside.

"Bon appetit, Carol," he smiled, going to find the bowls, wherever they were packed. Eventually when he couldn't find them, he gave up looking. He did find the spoons, though, in the box with the hygiene products, and we both just ate out of the pot.

"Come on, Carol, help me set up the TV," he tried to egg me on as we sat on the threadbare carpet in the living room. "I found the Blade Runner movies when I was looking for the bowls. I _love_ those films."

"Shouldn't you unpack first?" I looked around at the heaps of boxes. In the corner of the room, something fell over. "Clint, you really should buy some new stuff."

He huffed. "I know most of my things are barely being held together by duct tape, but they're _my_ things, and I want to make them work." Clint lived like a poor man, in this run-down apartment with chipping paint and bare electric bulbs. It was weird to see one Avenger living like this, while the others lived so comfortably: Natasha Romanoff herself lived in one of the richest neighborhoods in New York City. But I guess Clint liked being the odd one out. I couldn't really blame him. This old place had some sort of character.

"Hey, will you help me organize my trick arrows?" he got up in the middle of our meal to drag over a box marked _Superpowers_. "I have so many and they're all jumbled up everywhere. Here's the tape to label nocks," he pulled out a roll of purple tape. "Last time I went to buy tape I went to the wrong store."

I rolled my eyes, pulling an arrow out of the box. "Trick arrows? Does that mean not all of them just . . . shoot?" The arrow suddenly shuddered in my hand, and a net came flying out the arrowhead.

"Careful with the net arrow, Carol," he took it back gently from me. "Don't damage it."

"This one?" I pulled out another, slurping up more stew.

"Explosive tip," said Clint. "Put it down, I don't want to be blown up."

"I can absorb energy. We won't get hurt," I replied, but I set it gently on the ground anyway.

"But can you absorb it fast enough that _I_ won't get hurt?" he winked. We slurped at the stew for a few more minutes, before I began pulling arrows out again.

"Acid arrow. Cable arrow. Smoke arrow. Tear gas arrow," he named them as I examined them. They all just looked like regular old black arrows to me. "Guess what? I'm working on a Pym Particles arrow with Hank. It'll make whatever I shoot turn big or small."

"You really seem to know your stuff," I nodded.

He sighed. "Yeah, but in the middle of a battle I'm too busy fighting to actually pay attention to what it is I'm shooting. The other day," he leaned back against the bare grey wall with the peeling paint, "I was in a car chase, and I went to shoot the bad guy with a blast arrow, right? But I messed up and used a bola arrow, which did nothing, obviously."

I laughed. "What's this one? It looks like a USB."

"It is. I use it to shut down computers remotely. Easier than actually walking up and smashing it, since I can do it long-range," he shrugged.

"Fine, we can name your arrows," I pushed the pot of soup away, and we went to work putting tape in the nocks. "What do I label this one?"

"Uh . . ." he glanced up from his own work. "Boomerang. It comes back to you after you shoot it."

I frowned. "Why the _hell_ would you need an arrow that comes back to you?"

He blinked. "Because . . . boomerang."

I rolled my eyes again.

"So, Carol, you got any obsessions like my trick arrow one?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

"Uh - yeah, actually. Planes," I bit my lip. "I love flying, and I'm a pilot in the USAF, right? So I like spending all my free time with planes."

"That's neat. Do you build them, or just . . . fly?"

"Fly."

There was an awkward silence, and we got through a whole box of trick arrows before Clint spoke again. "Do you have a nickname or anything I can call you, Carol? Like, Samantha is called Sam, Anthony is called Tony . . ."

"My only nickname," I grinned, "is Cheeseburger."

"Cheeseburger?!"

"My Air Force alias."

"Aren't you supposed to get a cool name like Hammer or Ghost or Ace or . . . or Killer?"

"Yeah," I shrugged, "but I'm Cheeseburger."

He laughed. "Does anyone take you seriously?"

I pointed one of his arrows at him thoughtfully, and he flinched and flattened himself to the floor. "What'd I do?" I asked, shocked by his reaction.

"Boxing Glove arrow. Point it away!"

I pointed it at my face. "What kind of an arrow . . . ?!"

He snatched it from my hand. "You're a dangerous little blonde, aren't you?" he teased.

I shook my head, an embarrassed smile playing across my features. "I was going to say, 'It's actually kind of a funny story'."

"What is?"

"Well, you asked me if sometimes people don't take me seriously. And it's funny because I met Tony Stark before he was Iron Man, and he sure as hell didn't like my nickname," I chuckled to myself, thinking of the memory. "I was stationed in Afghanistan and he was doing his Middle Eastern tour."

"The same one that led to his capture and Iron Man's creation?"

"Yep, that was just a few weeks after this," I nodded, ripping some of the purple tape off the roll with my teeth. "He had built this brand-new stealth mode into one of the army's best planes (that Stark had built himself, too). Anyway, when they told him someone named 'Cheeseburger' was going to take the stealth mode into trial over Iranian airspace, he flipped shit." Clint began to laugh. "He said - he said, and I quote, 'You're letting a man named _Cheeseburger_ fly my best plane?!' And then I walked in right then," I laughed along with Clint, "and said, 'No, they're letting a _woman_ named Cheeseburger fly it.' They had already lettered 'Major "Cheeseburger" Danvers' onto the side of it and everything." Clint was lying on the ground, holding his sides as he roared with laughter. "I was introduced as the best pilot in the USAF, but I still don't think he liked me," I giggled along. "Anyway, he doesn't seem to remember it anymore."

Once Clint had calmed down, he sat up and poked me in the side with the USB arrow. "That's great. I can totally imagine Tony saying that, and you one-upping him," he wiped his eyes. "That's just too good." There was a pause. "So - did the stealth mode work?"

I winked at him. "That's classified information."

"Dude, I'm like, Level Six S.H.I.E.L.D security clearance-"

"I believe you have to be Level Seven," I teased.

His jaw dropped. "There's a Level _Seven_?!"

"I'm kidding," I laughed. "I actually have no idea."

"About whether or not the stealth worked, or about S.H.I.E.L.D clearance levels?"

"The latter," I said, and we worked in silence from then on until we were done labeling all his arrows.

"You know, I think I might get a dog," Clint said as we stood and stretched. It was pitch black outside, and the snow was falling even more heavily. It seemed like it was constantly snowing this year. A streetlamp just outside Clint's window cast an orange glow over everything, illuminating the night and the fog in a beautiful way.

"That's . . . random," I raised an eyebrow, turning to face him with a hand on my hip. "Clint Barton, you are disturbingly human."

His brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're not who I thought you would be. Agent Clint Barton of S.H.I.E.L.D seems like this no-nonsense master assassin with more muscle than Stark and a bigger head than him, too," I vexed. "And Hawkeye's the badass Avenger who goes around shooting things without even looking at them. But you, Clint, you're a geek," I punched him in the arm; he winced and rubbed the spot. "You're this guy who doesn't really fit in with the other Avengers, or anyone else, really. You don't have powers. You haven't been around since the Cold War. You're not a god, or a scientist, or insanely rich. You're just a guy on the team. And that's awesome."

"Uh . . . thanks? I mean, I know I'm not the most helpful Avenger. I fight with a stick and a string from the Paleolithic era - I should know, I looked that word up yesterday - and my concussions get concussions. But thanks. Good to know you like me for my personality," he struck a pose.

I laughed. "Yeah, yeah. But you know, it goes to show we don't know much about each other."

He shrugged. "None of the Avengers do, not really. For example," he began picking the clothes off the floor, "None of them know that I'm deaf."

"What? Really? No way."

"Yes way," he nodded earnestly. "I wear special hearing aids that S.H.I.E.L.D gave me."

"Wow," I was flabbergasted. "I totally did not expect that."

"Also, I _do_ have a superpower," his eyes were wide.

"Being a good archer?"

"No. Being awesome."

I snorted, amused. "I can fly at Mach 4 speed."

He whistled. "Now _that's_ impressive."

"Let's play a game," I started to fold the shirts that he picked up. "You tell me something little-known about yourself, and then I'll do the same. We'll go back and forth."

"My real name is Clinton."

I scrunched up my nose. "That doesn't count."

"Okay, I was an orphan. My parents died in a car crash when I was little."

"I grew up in Boston with two younger brothers."

"I have a brother! His name's Barney. He's, uh," Clint coughed awkwardly, "kind of the villain Trickshot now."

"My dad couldn't accept women as men's equals. I spent my whole life trying to prove myself to him."

"Barney and I ran away from the orphanage to work in the circus. We were roustabouts."

"What's that?"

"An unskilled or casual laborer," he sighed. "Still, the circus is where I learned to be an archer."

"We could only afford to send one child to college and my dad chose my oldest brother, even though my grades were better," I replied.

"Yeah, I had daddy issues too. My father was abusive, before he died. And in the circus, my mentor turned out to be using me the whole time just to make some illegal cash on the side. I kinda have trust problems now," he shrugged.

I folded up a shirt that said 'Property of the Avengers' on it. "I joined the Air Force as soon as I turned eighteen, turning my back on my dad. I wanted to be a pilot and get a college degree via the military."

"I think I've still got you beat for toughest childhood," he smiled sadly. "Although Steve's beat us all. I think now . . . I trust Steve. _He's_ my new mentor. And at least with him, I know he's not going to turn out evil or abusive or something."

"Why was Steve's childhood worse than yours?" I asked. "Didn't he grow up during the Great Depression?"

Clint was just about to reply when there was another knock on the door. I got up to open it and found a large man on the other side. He was a bit shorter than me but heavily muscled, and he wore black pants and a black parka. The hood was pulled up over his head, obscuring his face from view. In his gloved hands, he held a red box with a red bow on it.

"I'm looking to speak to Hawkeye," his voice was deep, and I felt rather uneasy around him.

"Hey, yeah, what?" Clint called from the center of the room. "Another neighbor?" Behind my back, I lit up my hand with photon energy, just in case.

"I said, I'd like to speak to _Hawkeye_," he said to me, gruff.

"How did you know Hawkeye lives-"

He stepped into the room, pushing past me. I morphed into my Ms. Marvel costume, holding my hand in front of me. "Hang on a minute there, buster," I held an offensive stance. "What do you want?"

Clint, sensing tension, grabbed his bow. "I'm not looking for a fight," the man sighed, lowering his hood. We were greeted by a mop of brown hair and weary eyes, set in a face of pale skin with sharp, hard features and beard stubble. He wore a mask not unlike my own.

"Winter Soldier!" Clint exclaimed, obviously recognizing the man. "Uh - Bucky!"

"Isn't the Soldier a villain?" I asked, crouching lower.

"No, no, Carol, just calm down," Clint waved me away. "How nice of you to, um, show up," he scratched his nose awkwardly. "Sorry the place is messy, I just moved in. Why don't you sit down-"

"I want you to give this to Natalia," he held out the red box. "It's a Christmas present."

"Why don't you just give it to her yourself?" I asked, still suspicious.

He narrowed his eyes. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"Ms. Marvel, and I'll be the one beating you senseless tonight if you don't explain yourself."

He snorted in amusement.

"Carol, chill," Clint said again.

"I'm trying to stay under the Avengers' radar," this Winter Soldier guy said. "I go up to Natalia, she'll knock me out and take me in to S.H.I.E.L.D before I have a chance to explain myself."

"She's been looking for you," Clint said.

"I know. But I'm not ready to come back yet."

Clint replied, "Steve thinks you're ashamed of what you did as the Soldier-"

"Look, just give this to her," he shoved the box in Clint's hands. "I know you're an Avenger, Hawkeye, but you're also the closest to Natalia. You're just a spy, like me. You should be able to understand where I'm coming from. Can I trust you'll give this to her without spreading it around that I've visited you?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Thank you." He turned to go, putting his hood back up again. "Oh, and for the record, Ms. Marvel - you wouldn't stand a chance."

I glared and slowly morphed back into my civvies, dropping my hand. "Feel like explaining, Clint?" I asked once the Soldier was gone.

He shrugged. "Not really. Besides, it's Avengers stuff, and technically you're not an Avenger yet."

"What do you think is in the box?"

"A . . . Christmas present."

"You don't say!" I grabbed it from him, and shook it. "Hey, you want me to just take this to Natasha? I'm going to head out now anyway."

"What? Why?! I haven't even gone through my box of music records yet!"

"I know, but it's after eleven and I've got things to do tomorrow."

"What things?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "If you must know, I have a meeting with a few of my Air Force comrades."

"Oh. Well," he scratched his nose again. "Go on home, I guess. Thanks for all the help!"

"It was no big deal," I reached out to hug him. "Take care of yourself, yeah? Don't go stepping on any bola arrows."

"You got it. You're a good kid, Carol," he made a finger gun and shot me. "It'll be a pleasure to work with you. Try not to blow anything up on the way back to the hotel – hey, you're staying in a hotel!"

"Yeah . . . so?"

He made a face. "Why don't you just stay here?"

I looked around the place. It still looked like a tornado had gone through it, and the bed wasn't even set up yet. "Really, Clint? _Really_?"

He made an awkward, embarrassed little sound. "Okay, so, maybe my place isn't the best place to be staying in. But I just moved out of Avengers Tower – you can have my room. It's cheaper than a hotel," he pushed me gently, "and you'll be closer to the action. You want to be an Avenger, why don't you stay with them?"

"You think Tony will allow it? It's his building."

"No, but Steve will talk him down."

I laughed. "Fine, I think I might just take you up on that offer. Thanks again! Live long and prosper!" I flashed him the official Star Trek hand sign.

"Anytime!" he shouted after me as I left the apartment. "And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

I climbed the staircase down to the ground level, Natasha's gift from the Soldier under my arm. I would've flown over to her place, but I had brought my car; we needed some way to transport Clint's stuff, and he didn't have a car of his own. I had wanted to use one of Tony's cars – the Buggati Veyrons or Maseratis that Samantha kept talking about – but I guess he didn't give them out to just anyone-

Someone collided with me and I fell to the ground, the gift stumbling into a snowbank as I landed hard on my hip. "Hey! Watch where yer goin'!" an annoyed female voice cried, rolling over on the sidewalk beside me.

"Excuse me? You're the one who ran into _me_," I looked over at the girl who had knocked me down. She wore a green coat with white lining, and her brown hair was streaked through with white at the front.

"Ah was just takin' a stroll down the road, yer the one who weren't paying no attention!" she snapped, and I recognized a heavy Southern accent. "Awl you darn Yankee characters have no damn manners! Back in San Francisco, at least _they _don't walk inta people-"

"You're from San Francisco? You're accent's not-"

"Ahm not _from _California, but Ah _live_ there. Name's Rogue."

"What kind of a name is Rogue?" I asked, wiping the snow off my face.

"Ah dunno, what kind of a person walks inta others?" she pushed up from the ground, brushing herself off. "Damn, Ah got snow in mah coat."

I retrieved the present, which was now slightly damp; Rogue took off her coat and shook it out on top of me. "Hey!" I reached out to grab her arm, both to help myself up from the ground and to stop her. When I came in contact with the skin of her bare arm, a cold, painful shock went through me and I found myself unable to move, my lips open in a gasp.

"Ahhhh!" Rogue cried, ripping her arm away from my hand. "You gon' an' done it now, Sugah! What the – aw, hell!" she exclaimed as suddenly her hand lit up with photon energy, exactly like mine did when I was in Ms. Marvel mode. I didn't get to see what her reaction was, though, as my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I passed out in the middle of the sidewalk.

* * *

"Carol Danvers? What are you _doing _out here? Carol, wake up, honey!"

I opened my eyes wearily, my head filled with fuzz. "What – wha-"

"Oh, my. Okay, hon, do you remember your name? What happened? Are you taking a nap in the snow?"

With some effort I focused my gaze on Janet Van Dyne, who was standing over me with a worried expression on her face. "Your lips are all blue!"

I nodded, teeth chattering. I felt like Cap must've after being in a block of ice for 70 years. I was covered in snow and my fingers and toes were numb; Natasha's present was tucked into the crook of my arm. To my surprise, I wasn't lying on the sidewalk where I had passed out. Instead I was tucked into the doorway of Clint's apartment, barely sheltered from the wind. Rogue must've dragged me there when-

"Rogue!" I tried to say as I attempted to sit up, but neither worked. I was so cold that all that came out was a "Rrrog!" and I flopped over onto my side.

"Okay, Carol, look. My car's right there," she pointed a few feet away, at the yellow Porsche in front of my own black Honda, "and it's still warm from the drive over here. Let's get you in there, you poor thing," she helped me to my feet and then practically dragged me over to the car, opening the passenger's door and dumping me in. I barely had enough energy to right myself in the seat before she got in the driver's side and started up the car, turning the heating on full blast.

A good five minutes later, and I was starting to feel my hands and feet again. My hair was dripping wet and my clothing was, too, as Janet pulled the car out of where it was parked and began driving away. "I'm going to take you back to Avengers Tower, honey, and we're going to make sure you're alright. We don't want you getting frostbite," she tsked. "Pepper's there, she'll take good care of you. How long were you out there for?!"

"I don't know," my voice was hoarse. "What time is it?"

"Just after midnight."

"Then no longer than an hour," I sighed in relief. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to see Clint's new place."

". . . At midnight?"

"Yes," she turned to face me, a confused expression on her face. "Why?" she asked, as if visiting people at midnight was a perfectly normal thing to do.

"Uh . . . no reason."

"What were you doing in the snow?" she questioned me, speeding through a red light.

"I . . . bumped into some girl named Rogue," I said. "I touched her, and I . . . passed out."

Janet gave me a look that clearly said she thought I was crazy, but didn't comment. "And that red present?"

"It's for Natasha." Against my better judgement, I didn't tell her that it was from the Winter Soldier. "And, hey, thanks for driving me to the Tower. It's really sweet of you, you barely even know me-"

"Oh, no problem!" Janet exclaimed. "Anything to help a fellow Avenger!"

"Technically, I'm not an Avenger."

"Yet," she winked. "And I already count you as a Femme Fatale, so it's okay."

"What's that?"

She smiled at me, skirting around a car that was backing out of a parking lot; it honked at her. "My own little team of female superheroines!" her voice was beyond excited. "Me, Widow, Masquerade, and Pepper. She just doesn't have a code name yet," Jan frowned. "We're kind of just all the female Avengers," she mock-whispered at me. "But I'd like you to join the team!"

"So . . . do the others know about this team?" I asked, wondering why it had never been mentioned before.

"Of course. They're just not as excited about it as I am," she sighed. "We haven't really gone on any missions yet . . . but!" she slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding crashing into a garbage truck. "But Samantha's off on her own little mission right now, and if she needs an extraction team, the Femme Fatales will be there first!"

"Riiiiight."

By the time we made it back to Avengers Tower I was feeling perfectly fine again, besides a large migraine, but Janet still insisted her friend Pepper Potts and Stark's butler Edwin Jarvis look me over. They deemed me healthy if still a bit cold, and demanded I stay inside for the rest of the night. My superhuman stamina had helped me survive and recover easily. While Jarvis was off setting up a bedroom for me, Jan made hot chocolate and sat me down in the living room. Her husband, Hank, was pacing the room. He was scribbling away on a notepad, a calculator in his jacket pocket; Janet peered over his shoulder, trying to see what he was writing, but he pushed her away. She peeked at it again, and once more, he shoved her off.

"Are you working on that silly Giant-Man thing again-"

"It's not silly," he grumbled, turning away from her once more.

She rolled her eyes, walking over to me. "Hank's been working on modifying his Pym Particles again. He wants to grow _big _now, rather than small, and become Giant-Man." She sat down beside me and handed me a mug of steaming hot chocolate, marshmallows included. "It's because he wants to be one of the greats, you see, like Iron Man or Thor or Cap, and he feels like Ant-Man just isn't cutting it. He told me he was jealous because I've found it so easy to fit in, while he's struggling to be a hero."

Hank whipped around, his eyes bright as he grabbed Janet roughly by the elbow and dragged her off the couch, down the hall. "Ow!" she complained, trying to pull away from him. "Hank, let me go!"

"Janet, you stupid woman, that was _not appropriate _for you to say all that to-"

"Let me go! You're hurting me! It's not _my_ fault you feel that your scientific research has gone nowhere since the discovery of Pym Particles, and that you're spending all your time feeling sorry for yourself!"

"_Shut up_, Janet!" he cried, releasing her – and smacking her across the face.

I was on my feet in a flash, flying over towards them. In one swift movement I grabbed Hank's wrist and turned him around, pushing him up against the wall. "No, wait!" Janet cried, trying to pull me off while she kept one hand pressed against her stinging cheek. "Carol, don't hurt him! He didn't mean it!"

"_Didn't mean it_? He _hit_ you, Janet!"

"Yeah, but if Clint hit Steve, you wouldn't throw Clint up against a wall, would you?"

"Hank is your _husband_," I said through gritted teeth, while he squirmed against the wall.

"But he didn't hit me because I'm his wife," she tried to reason. "He didn't hit me because he was trying to put me in my place or something. He still would have lashed out if it were Tony, or Thor, or even Jarvis," she massaged her cheek.

"Janet . . ."

She grabbed my arm, trying to shake me off him. "Please, Carol. He's just stressed and under a lot of tension. He's mentally fragile, like Sam. Leave him alone."

"I really think we should _tell _someone, like Tony or Steve."

"No, please! Look, I can tick off the reasons he's fragile on my fingers," her voice was desperate. "He wants to be Giant-Man, he's worried about his research, he's overwhelmed with guilt over Ultron, he feels inadequate compared to me – sorry, dear, but you know it's true – because I have found success in both my career as a fashion designer, as well as eclipsing his career as a superhero; he's also stressed about money, since our only means of support in this marriage in my inheritance from my father!"

"What does _Ultron _have to do with anything? And who the hell _is _Ultron, anyway?"

"He's a giant killer robot that I created, completely by accident," Hank cried, and I could hear that he was holding back a sob. "And he was based off my subconscious bravewaves, which means – what if – I mean-"

"He's scared of himself," Janet tried to explain. "If Ultron became a terrorist, does that mean Hank is subconsciously one too?"

I looked between the two of them, eyes wide. "You people are . . ."

"Crazy, we know," she sighed. "But please, Carol, _please _just keep this between the three of us. It won't happen again."

"_Hank?"_ I asked, my voice sharp.

"I swear to God, I won't lay another hand on her, she's right, I'm just depressed, I – I –"

I let go of him, and he stumbled away from the two of us. "Fine. _Go,_" I snapped. "And don't you dare even _think _of hurting Janet again."

He scrambled away, into his room. "I'd say thanks," Janet said softly, "but I didn't really need the help. Please don't think of him as a bad person."

I sighed, avoiding the question. "I'm going out for a bit, okay? I need to – to – to drop this off at Natasha's," I looked around desperately for an excuse and noticed the little red box sitting on the coffee table. In reality, I just needed to cool down.

And what better way to do that than fly around the Big Apple at Mach 3, two thousand feet off the ground?

I grabbed the gift and morphed into my Ms. Marvel suit, kicking open the door to the balcony and flying right off into the night. I circled the Chrysler Building twice and even saved a couple from a speeding car before I gave myself a chance to pause and breathe, hovering in the air over the Empire State Building.

I felt so_ angry. _I mean, what was I supposed to do in that situation? What were _they _supposed to do? What would have been the proper reaction? Hank and Janet weren't the happiest couple in the world, I could see that now – but was it okay for me to keep that secret? Was it even my secret to keep? Hank was obviously just as mentally unstable as Samantha Silverman, and could the Avengers handle that many crazies? Was that how Sam and Steve were going to turn out eventually? I could tell Jan and Hank loved each other, sure, but was their relationship healthy? If anything, it seemed like Hank needed a break. He needed a leave, and sure, it was a military term, but it applied here too. He needed to sit back and relax before he ended up blowing us all up.

Finally finding the inner strength to make the flight to Natasha's penthouse in Carnegie Hill, I flew off there right away, twisting in the air and just enjoying the flight rather than flying my fastest. When I was a little girl, I wanted to fly. Right out of high school, I joined the Air Force so I could pay my way through college. And let me tell you, life in the Air Force was _great. _Flying at Mach 4, about a hundred feet off the deck, in an experimental Stark fighter that's invisible to radar?

I go weak in the knees just _thinking _about it.

You know the rush you get when you're on a roller coaster, or snowboarding, or you're almost in a car wreck? That blood-pumping-so-hard-your-ears-are-_thumping_ rush of adrenaline? It's what I live for. And now that I'm a grown-up and I can fly _without _a plane . . . well . . . it's pretty cool.

To my surprise, I found Natasha sitting on her roof in the snow. She had pulled up a lawn chair and was only wearing her Widow catsuit; a bottle of vodka sat beside her. Her long red hair was wet and speckled with snowflakes, and her newly-cut bangs were dripping into her eyes.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked, touching down lightly on the roof beside her.

She replied, "I'm from Russian."

I pursed my lips and nodded my head. "Valid point."

She took a swig from the vodka bottle, raising her eyes at me. "What brings you here in the middle of the night?"

I took a shaky breath, pushing out thoughts of Hank and Janet. "Um . . . I was helping Clint move into his new apartment, and we had a visitor," I held out the red gift.

She glared at it.

"It's from, well, I don't actually know his real name," I coughed awkwardly, feeling nervous around this living legend – the super-spy from the Cold War. "The Winter Soldier, I think you might know him?"

At this, she snatched up the box; flicking out a knife from her sleeve, she sliced open the wrapping and stabbed through the box. Ripping it open, tissue paper went flying everywhere as she dug through it to pull out – a handgun.

"Smith and Wesson M&P9L Pro Series C.O.R.E, 9mm. Double Action Striker Fire and 17 + 1 rounds," she nodded her head approvingly. "His taste in handguns hasn't gotten worse through the years, that's good to know."

"Uh, wow," I said, astonished. "You really know your guns."

"Just like you know your planes," she sighed, rifling through the box some more.

"Ah-" I cut myself off, realizing that _of course_ she'd know about me and planes: she was a super-spy, after all. She had said it herself that she even knew what kind of shampoo I used.

"So, you met Rogue today," she said lightly, still going through the tissue paper. I blinked, shocked that she already knew that, but didn't comment. "Her real name's Anna Marie, and she's a mutant. Just in case you were wondering."

"What? Really?"

"She absorbed a shred of your powers and memories when you made skin-to-skin contact with her," Natasha didn't even look at me as she said it, and her voice was so calm she could have been talking about the weather.

"How do you know all this?"

"Oh, she was just in New York because S.H.I.E.L.D wants the Avengers to team up with the X-Men. Tony, Steve and I have been looking over some of the mutants, trying to decide who would fit on our team best. She's one of the options."

"She wasn't very friendly," I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I'm sure she'd be more pleasant under different circumstances," she raised her eyebrows, finally looking up at me. Her fingers suddenly found a folded piece of paper in the box: a note.

"Ah. I knew he'd include a note," she said, flicking it open and pushing the box off her lap so she could replace it with the paper.

I craned my neck forward, and she shot me a look. "What's it say?" I asked, standing up on my tiptoes nervously.

"None of your business, Blondie," Natasha shot back, her eyes skimming over the letter quickly.

"Aw, c'mon, I spent my night trying to get this gift to you, it's not even Christmas yet and you shouldn't have opened it, the least you could do-"

"You spent tonight getting the gift to me?" she raised her eyebrows but didn't look up. "You could have spent it being useful. Sin and the Serpent Squad blew up a subway car."

"_What_?!"

"Yeah, Thor and Hulk are dealing with it right now, probably causing more damage than Sin did in the first place. You win some, you lose some," she said absentmindedly, still reading the letter. "I believe Daredevil even showed up."

"Well, should I go help now - ?"

"No, I'm sure it's all under control," she ran her hand through her hair. "Besides, I bet we'll be getting a call from Samantha any moment now, asking us to come pick her up from whatever hell the Enchantress has placed her in."

"Uh . . ."

Natasha folded up the letter and took a long drink from the vodka bottle, closing her eyes and leaning back. "I probably seem very heartless and robotic to you, don't I? Just another drone. Maybe even cold and distant." There was a long pause, and then she held out the letter to me. "Please believe me when I say that I am not."

_Dear Natalia Romanova,_

_Sometimes, on nights like this, I have to remind myself that I'm supposed to be dead. So even though everything has fallen apart . . . even thought I've lost my mind and made mistakes . . . even though we're down to one last chance . . . I know there's still hope._

_I'm not expecting you to understand. You don't have to. I just want you to tolerate me and my comings and goings. I know you've been looking for me, that you've been watching my every move. But when Steve first brought "Bucky" back, when I first broke out of my Winter Soldier psyche, I experienced a shock of horror, then a strong thrill of grief. What I had done as the Soldier? It's unforgivable. I've got red in my ledger._

_Steve taught me from day one that even if we wear a uniform, our first sworn duty is to our conscience, no matter what the consequences. As the Soldier, I didn't have that conscience. It's killing me to think that we were _both_ trained to ignore that essential little part of ourselves. That's why I know it will be difficult for you to understand me, now that Bucky's back._

_As you know, I've been traversing the country, taking out units of A.I.M, R.A.I.D, H.Y.D.R.A and The Hand. I'm not doing it to make up for what I've done as the Soldier. Can I really wipe out that much red in my ledger? Does one act of good make up for one act of bad? No. Redemption is not possible for me. But if people were always obedient and kind to those who were unjust and cruel, the wicked people would have it all their own way: they would never feel afraid, and so they would never change, but would grow worse and worse. When we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard. I am sure of this. We should strike back so hard that we would teach the person who struck us never to do it again._

_And so I've been haunting the country not for redemption, but for revenge. You are an Avenger, I am a Revenger. I have tracked down all my old Soviet handlers; all the twisted doctors and generals and government officials who had poked and prodded at my mind and turned me into a being without a conscience. Bemember what I said about your conscience, and how you must obey it first and foremost? You can't blame anyone else, not the director of the program, not your commanding officer, not your comrades in arms, no one but yourself. You have to make your own choices and live every agonizing day with the consequences of those choices. I am now living those consequences._

_But here I go again, getting all propetic on you. Why can't we just live simple lives? Why can't it be like that one day off we had in Paris, where you threw down your umbrella and danced in the rain? Those moments when we were James and Natalia, not the Winter Soldier and the Black Widow. Suspended animation froze my heart, too, and even after all these years, I still love you. You are something I can fight for now - I don't think you can fully grasp what that means to me. I can fight for you, and I can fight for Steve - it's a miracle he's still alive. I watched him the other day, spending time with that girl he's fallen in love with. I don't know who she is, but she makes him happy. That's more than I could ever do for the frail little man I used to overshadow._

_But you and me are different from Steve and that girl: as different as fire from frost, or lightning from a moonbeam. Whatever our souls are made of, theirs are the same, as are ours. My love for you is darker. It knows more sorrow. But it is patient: it waits. Neither of us are dying, neither of us are going anywhere. We take our time and we relish our slow pace. We've both spent most of our lives waiting for the other._

_Don't come looking for me, Natalia, because I'll find you. Just like I always have. I never even realized how lost I was without you._

_But I always was. Just some lost soldier who forgot he ever had a home._

_Until you gave me one._

_Faithfully yours,_

_James Barnes_

_P.S. I may no longer be in league with the terrorist Ultron, but what kind of a spy would I be if I didn't still keep tabs on him? He is slow to plan his next move, but he and the Mandarin have a new recruit whose name I believe will mean something to you: they have recruited Namor the Sub-Mariner._

"Wow. This is . . . uh, deep. So, who is this James guy?" I said, blinking emotion out of my eyes. "He seems . . . he really seems . . ."

Natasha's Stark Phone beeped. It was hidden in her utility belt, but she pulled it out and flicked it on. "Just like I said. Sam's calling us," her voice was grim. "We very well can't send Janet off on her own. Care to join us in a little late-night rescue, Ms. Marvel? You're already in costume."

I bent down and tucked the letter back into the box, straightening up and saving those soul-probing thoughts for later. "I'm always ready for a little action, Widow. As I'm sure Janet will say - Femmes Fatales, assemble!"

* * *

**A/N: Ahem. Long chapter, for a filler. We'll get more action next time, I promise. **

**So, a few notes: don't hate me if you think Rogue was portrayed, erm, unfavourably. In the comics, her and Ms. Marvel have this huge, ages-old rivalry that consists of Rogue stealing Carol's memories, thoughts, feelings and powers for a _very_ long time. Therefore, they're not friends - and although I won't include Rogue stealing Carol's powers in this story, I do think I'll keep that animosity. **

**Second note is on Hank and Jan: Hank Pym did infamously hit his wife a long time ago, and it's basically what he's most well-known for. I decided to put it in to add a little bit of dynamic to him, since I pretty much ignore Hank. It's just that he's ignored in the Marvel Universe, too - he's not all that interesting, especially since we've got Sam taking up the roll of Official Crazy. Sorry to all you Pym lovers :P**

**In other news, we reached 200 reviews! I cannot thank you all enough for making this series such a success :D and thank you for all the reviews last chapter. You are all beautiful people: _clarinetrox88, brandibuckeye, Comiccrazygothgirl, InLoveWithTheRogue, erica . phoenix 16, roxxirox, Awareness, scott6130, Shadow Realm Triforce _and_ CeffylGwyn_! Thank you so, so much :)**

**Until next time, my lovely readers, and please remember to leave a review! Let me know what you thought, and READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	18. I Like It

Samantha Silverman's POV

_Cuddling and kissing. I like that shit._

_- Unknown_

". . . Why does everything smell like flowers?"

_C'mon, Sam, think. Where the hell are you?_ Last I remembered, the Enchantress had hit me with a spell to make me pass out. And now I was . . . here? Wherever here was. My eyes were squeezed shut as if I had just passed through a nightmare, and eventually I found the strength to open them. "Hello? Anyone?"

"Oh dear, the damsel in distress is awake," came an incredibly annoyed voice that was like nails on a chalkboard. "How lovely." My line of vision was blocked by a tall blonde figure. I was face-to-face with the Enchantress. Again.

"Geez, can't you just go away already?" I snapped. "And where the hell are we?"

"Well, it seems to me that we're in one of your useless Midgardian houses of green."

I glanced around at the flowers surrounding us and hanging from the ceiling, and the glass walls and roof over our heads. "What - what happened to - what?" I reached up to touch my face and hair, and found that there was no more food stuck there. "Where'd the dining room go?"

"Oh, dear," Enchantress pouted. "You didn't actually think we were in that fancy dining hall, did you?" she barked out a laugh. "Please. There's nowhere that beautiful in Midgard."

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"No, Samantha, I'm afraid you don't quite know where we are," she waved her hand around, and the greenhouse began to glow slightly green. "You can't rely on your sight all the time, weasel."

The scene changed, and I found myself suddenly sitting on a snowy mountaintop with her, overlooking a valley.

I sputtered, backing away. The Enchantress laughed, her breath a white cloud in the air. "Are you a teleporter?" I asked, confused as I shifted uncomfortably through the snow.

"No, no, nothing as petty as that," Enchantress flicked her wrist, and we were back in the greenhouse. "I am a sorceress; a magician. These places are real, and yet at the same time, we have not left our tiny little room. This is just an image projection I've come up with," she tittered. "Comes with being a goddess, you know. The magical perks, I mean. You should try it sometime. Oh, wait! No. You're a human," she laughed once again.

"So . . . it just _looks_ like we're in a greenhouse?"

"Well, I very well couldn't let you see what building we're actually in. Don't want you finding out your location in the York of New," she kicked me. "Besides, the building we're actually in is much too nasty. That whole dinner scene with Loki? Fake."

"Loki was fake?"

"No, the dinner was fake. That's why there's no more oatmeal in your hair," she rolled her eyes. "Fool."

"Does that mean," I struggled to my feet, noticing with chagrin that the delicate silver bracelet was still wrapped around my wrist, "if I hit you in the head hard enough, it'll go away?"

I curled my hand into a fist and sent it flying up at the Enchantress. It caught her on the side of the face, her mouth opening as spit splattered everywhere. She staggered back, but the greenhouse didn't flicker.

"Swine," she snarled, touching her jaw gently; I went to hit her again, but she threw up a wall of green light as a shield. "I am not telepathic. This is not some trick in your mind. It is _real_. It is a spell, and my wavering concentration will not change it. This room has literally become a house of green."

"Yeah, thing is, I don't believe you."

I kicked her in the knee, below her small green shield; it collapsed as she hit the floor and I reached for her face, putting my thumbs into her eyes. She grabbed both my wrists in one hand before I could gouge out her eyes and ripped them away. I struggled, but she pulled me down to the floor.

With a grunt of effort, I ripped my hands away from her and rolled on top of Amora, pinning her down to the ground. She reached up and wrapped her hands around my neck. Angrily, I tried to pull her fingers off. When that didn't work, I got frustrated and instead just bent them back, breaking each finger with a snap.

She howled in pain, releasing me as I smacked her in that perfect face again. Furious, she knocked me back with a blast of green energy as she nursed her fingers. With her powers she blasted me again and again, and even so she was only paying half a mind to it and using half her magic: Amora was healing her broken fingers with those same green spells.

I was thrown against the wall and knocked around multiple times before she finally let me fall to the floor, and even then it was only because Loki had shown up once more. "What in Odin's name is going on?" he demanded, looking at my bloody face.

I let out a battle cry, lunging to my feet and grabbed a pot of flowers from a nearby table. I threw it at Loki, and the Enchantress barely had enough time to throw up a shield to protect him before I had thrown another one.

Loki began to laugh. "You don't give up, Masquerade, do you?"

"Yearghh!" I picked up a garden rake that was almost as tall as me and swung it at the two Asgardians. It connected, knocking Thor's greasy brother into his girlfriend; they stumbled into one another and lost their balance momentarily. I used that opportunity to smash the rake against Loki's head, and it clanged off his golden moose antler helmet.

Enchantress sent an offensive spell flying at me, but I blocked it with the lid of a garbage can much like Cap does with his shield. Loki stalked towards me with his huge matchstick of doom that I had last seen during the Battle of New York. He raised it towards my chest, and quick as lightning I deflected it with my arm.

"Oh no. I know what happens with your stupid glowing stick. You start controlling people - you did it to Hawkeye - and you're not doing it to me."

He tried again anyway and I threw up my arms to block it once again. This time, the tip of it connected with the delicate silver bracelet on my wrist (the one that Enchantress had conjured). There was a blast of green light, and I was thrown into a display of morning glory flowers.

"Fool! The reverse energy will annihilate my magic-" Enchantress was shouting. I lifted my arm to see the bracelet was nothing but smoke now.

A grin split my face, but it was soon wiped clean off as the flowers around me burst into flame. I had _not_ done that on purpose, but it was undeniably my own fire. Swearing to myself, I ducked towards the side of the room as everything began to catch fire.

"How do you do it?" Enchantress rose out of the burning flowers like a demon from hell, her eyes reflecting the blaze. "How do you keep going when you are so obviously beat?"

Loki stepped up beside her, staring down at me with a look of pity - and maybe even sadness - on his face. "She has nothing to lose, nothing to gain. Nothing she desires anymore."

I began to cough from the smoke. It was thick, heavy, and black, and it rose steadily; I fell to my knees to escape it. "I can keep going because I believe in the country America is," I replied, blinking away tears from the heat. A wild breeze whipped through the room, stirring up the flames. "I believe in the person I want to become, I believe in the kindness of strangers, and I believe in the freedom of the open road," I looked directly at Loki as I said that last part. "You can never conquer our race, Loki. We may seem weak and unworthy to you, but humans are fighters. If there's one thing we've got going for us, it's hope and perseverance. No other race can fight for hope like humans."

Enchantress went to blast me again with more energy, but I turned into water (voluntarily this time) so that the blast went over me as I became a puddle. Right after, I solidified and rolled underneath a burning table, but I was choking on too much smoke. I ripped off my sweater and once again turning my hand into water, I soaked it; I then wrapped it around my mouth and nose to act as a sort of respirator. It left my thin t-shirt exposed to the flames, but at least now I could breathe.

I did notice, though, a bulge in my sweater pocket. Pulling out the object, I found - to my complete and utter surprise - my Stark Phone. Looking at it in confusion, it took me a while to realize that my kidnappers wouldn't have known to take it away from me. They weren't from Earth. They didn't know what a cell phone was, or that it could help me to escape. Advantages of fighting aliens!

Still cowering under the table, I opened up the location app on the phone and found myself to be in East Brooklyn, New York, in a seldom-used apartment building. Not a greenhouse, believe it or not. Copying and pasting my location in a message to Pepper, I sent it along with the word HELP.

When Loki and Amora weren't looking, I stood and made a dash for the door at the end of the greenhouse. Well, apartment. Whatever the hell it was. Flames licked at my sides as I ran right through the smoke, breathing through the wet sweater. The door was locked, unsurprisingly, but at least it was made of glass: I kicked straight through it, shattering the door.

I didn't even have time to see where it lead before I was pushed into the side of the door, glass cutting all down my side. Joy. Enchantress was picking a fight with me again, her blonde hair frizzing up in the heat. She kneed me in the stomach and elbowed me upside the head. I pushed her back with wind, trying to buy myself time as I wheezed through the pain. My hand still felt like it was shattered, but at least now I could try and use my powers to get through this. She grabbed a handful of my hair and slammed my head against the side of the door, once more filling my body with tiny glass shards. I screamed in pain, and then ducked when she tried the same move again.

"Your father and his armor aren't around to help you now," Enchantress snarled. "You can't beat me. I've fought _Thor_."

"Yeah, but have you trained with him?" I deflected a blow and then smacked her in the chest, sending her out of the greenhouse. We ended up in a hallway. "I mean, granted, neither have I." She raised an eyebrow. "But I've trained with Captain America."

Using one of the techniques Steve taught me, I dropped my elbow to her knee in a violent downward thrust, and then brought it back up to connect with the underside of her chin. I brought the other hand around - the shattered one - to smack her in the face, and although my hand screamed in protest, the blood I watched her spit out of her mouth was worth it.

"It's still," she grunted, throwing up a hand to block my next punch: she caught my fist in mid-air, "two against one." She did the same with my other fist as I went to punch her with that one.

Amora punched me in my face with my own fist, and then suddenly Loki had picked me up from behind and thrown me back into the burning greenhouse. "Would it not just be simpler," he chuckled, "to give in? To let us tell you what to do? Your struggle is fruitless, Samantha. You shall not win. Your friends shall not win. Bigger things are coming. Bigger than you could imagine."

I pulled myself to my feet and threw a burning flowerpot at him, charring my hands. It deflected it off his scepter, but by now I was on my feet. I head-butted him hastily, and he chuckled once more.

"You try too hard to be the person they all want you to be," he kept trying to get under my skin. "Why not try and be yourself? Let them see who you really are?"

"And who might that be?" I held up my fists, ready for any attacks he might try on me.

"Why, Samantha," he opened his arms as if he was going to give me a hug. "We both know you're two things: weak and insane."

I kicked him in the stomach and he flew back into the hallway that the Enchantress still stood in. "You're trying to overcompensate-" he coughed.

"No. Just stop," I held up my hands. "You know that stuff that come out of a bull's ass? Bullshit? Yeah. That's what is coming out of your _mouth_ now. You're the god of _lies_, Loki," I stood a little taller as I defended myself. "You're trying to get into my head, and I won't let you. _It's not going to work_," I smirked. "Say what you want, but now - I _am_ a hero."

Enchantress grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into the hall, slamming me against the wall. The hallway was surprisingly made of cement, and it was dirty and dimly lit. So unlike the greenhouse. I bent down and elbowed her on the inside of her thigh, and in response she put a hand on my head and punched me in the face as she held me in place. When she went to do it again, I ducked and caught her around the midsection, knocking her over.

The Enchantress began to laugh. "Wait, wait. What am I doing? Your foolish human ways must be poisoning me," she narrowed her eyes. "I am a goddess. I do not need to stoop so low as to actual hand-to-hand combat." She winked. "Still, it was fun while it lasted."

She pointed her hands down at the floor and the whole thing rolled like the waves on the ocean. There was an explosion of green and I flew through the wall behind me, nearly passing out. Instead I landed in what must have been Loki and Amora's workroom: various Asgardian weapons and clothing was strewn about.

Upon a table sat a scroll, written in an old Norse language that I couldn't read. As an archeologist I could read Latin, sure, but not this strange language. _Ah, what the hell_, I thought, rolling it up and tucking it into the waistband of my jeans. It wouldn't hurt to have. Maybe I could get Thor to translate.

I took a moment to put my soaking-wet sweater back on as I looked through the debris. Fire was spreading out into the hallway, and I could barely make out the shapes of figures moving out there. Loki appeared by my side, his green cape billowing and his golden helmet still shining. Dammit, how did he keep that thing so clean?

"You know," I wiped dirt off my face, "there's a movie called The Incredibles produced by Pixar Studios." He swung his scepter at me as if it was a baseball bat; I flew into the wall. "There's a character in it named Edna," I went on; he crushed my face underneath his boot. I pushed it off, saying, "and she designs the costumes for all the superheroes." Struggling to my feet and using the nearby desk to help me up, I went on. "And you know what her number-one rule for costumes was?" He raised an eyebrow.

"_No capes_."

I lit his fancy green cape on fire and he panicked, shouting in surprise and running back into the hallway to join the Enchantress. Seeing what I had done, she pointed a finger at me and one of her spells came shouting out, blasting me in the chest and making my ears pop. But after, as my eyes focused and the ringing in my ears stopped, I came to the conclusion that there was a different fight going on out there now.

"Sam? Honey?" a tiny voice sounded in my ear. I jumped up in terror, ready to light my visitor on fire. "Hang on, girlie!" the voice laughed. "It's just me!"

I squinted through the dust at a small insect, flying around my head. ". . . Wasp?"

Janet Van Dyne smiled, waving. "Boy, you sure look like a mess! Steve's gonna kill you when he sees you in this condition!"

"Just consider it another of Tony's plans gone wrong," I rolled my eyes, my voice tense. "He's the one who wanted me to be his damn daughter."

She landed on my shoulder, tugging on a strand of my blonde hair. "C'mon, Pepper's waiting outside with a car. She's choreographing this whole rescue. Technically, it's the Femmes Fatales' first mission!" her tiny voice was excited.

"No, wait, I want to help-"

"And so do I, but trust me, you need medical aid." Her voice was still light and unworried, but I could now sense a layer of tension underneath. "Widow and Ms. Marvel are out there, working on taking down our Asgardian terrorists." Right on cue, I saw Carol through the dust, her photon blasts clashing with Amora's spells like Harry and Voldemort in the Battle of Hogwarts. The Black Widow was back in the burning greenhouse with Loki, her red hair dancing like my flames as she bounced around.

Wasp flew down and zapped me in the butt, trying to get me moving. I didn't need to be told twice as the smoke began to choke my lungs once more. I stumbled down the staircase and almost crashed into a wall; Janet held me back, directing me around. Even as Wasp, she still retained human strength, and it was enough to hold me up as she led me out the building and into the street.

"Pep!" I sighed in relief, collapsing into the passenger seat of the Buggati Veyron she had parked outside. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

She looked at me with a horrified expression on her face. "What?" I asked, as firetrucks came screaming up.

Janet grew back to normal size, putting a hand gingerly on my shoulder. "You look like you've been to hell and back, honey."

I nodded. "Mm-hmm, I should probably get to a doctor." I put my seatbelt on - safety first - as Pepper peeled away from the curb.

"Steve knows first aid, right? I'll take you back to your place," she said, gripping the wheel tightly. "He can fix you up without doctors asking too many questions."

I frowned. "I should probably see a _real_ doctor, Pepper. I mean, sure, he had to take care of all his fallen comrades in the war, but it's still best to see a professional. If you're worried about doctors asking question, we'll go to Stark Tower. We've got all the medical supplies and Jarvis is a qualified doctor . . ."

"Why not go to the hospital? They've got doctors there, last I checked," Janet chirped.

"Doctors that will want to know how she ended up like this," Pepper braked at a red light.

"We can just whip out her Avengers card-"

"And expose my identity?" I shot back.

"They're doctors, it's not like they're going to tell Loki," she rolled her eyes, pouting.

"Loki already knows, it doesn't matter," I sighed. "We should go back to the Tower."

"The Tower is too far away," the redhead to my left complained. "We're in the city that never sleeps. There's still traffic, and it's after midnight. You need medical attention fast, and we're only ten minutes from your flat."

"The hospital is closer," Jan sung from the backseat.

"Yeah, well, I'm driving," Pepper announced triumphantly as she pulled onto my street. "So ha."

I gritted my teeth. Primarily, I just didn't want Steve to see me in this beat-up shape. I knew he'd make a big deal out of it; cause a scene. And honestly, I didn't even feel my injuries. Granted, it was probably because my body had gone into shock, which meant it was worse than I thought - but for now? I felt nothing. The pain, especially in my hand, had disappeared.

Pepper parked the car as Janet got out, shrinking down to wasp size and flying through a crack in the window. Once inside, she grew back to human size and unlocked the door from in there. Pepper helped me into the building as Janet lunged up the stairs and shrunk down once more, flying through the crack underneath the door to my flat so she could once again let us in. I struggled up the staircase while she woke Steve, Pepper helping me the whole time.

By the time we made it into the living room Steve was already in there, looking like the cutest, most innocent boyfriend anyone could ever have. He wore his Iron Man pajama pants and grey ARMY t-shirt that showed off his muscular arms, and his hair was sticking up everywhere. It was a rare occasion when I saw him without his hair styled in that dorky forties way that made him look so handsome, but his bedhead only made him more irresistible. His blue eyes widened when he saw me, but before he could comment I lifted my hands to stop him.

"Before you say anything," I said, "_yes_, it was a very physical fight. I went ballistic on the Enchantress," I grinned. "It was great."

That cute little crease had formed between Steve's eyebrows; the one that only appeared when he was worried. "Sweetie, you're missing a tooth," he said hesitantly.

I stuck my hand in my mouth, feeling around. "Nah, it's okay," I finally replied, finding the offending gap. "I lost that one a while ago, in my battle with the Mandarin. It was a fake tooth."

"Because that makes it so much better," Pepper said sarcastically.

Just then my little brother Luke stumbled out of his room, eager to see what all the fuss and noise was about. He took one look at me and paled, before rushing into the bathroom to throw up in the toilet. I winced. "Do I really look that bad?"

Janet rushed in to help him while Pep explained the situation to Steve. He glared at her. "You should've brought Sam to a hospital."

"Can't you fix her?"

He sighed. "Sprained wrist? No problem. But she has a broken hand. Plus, that glass in her side is going to need to be surgically removed."

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the dark widow, finally able to see what all the fuss was about. I was black and blue all over, bruises forming in places I didn't even know existed. My nose was bleeding heavily and my hand was crushed; the side of my head had slivers of glass sticking out of it, so that blood was dripping everywhere. That didn't even count the glass in my torso, or the soot covering my body and singeing my hair.

"Look, I'm fine, I just need a band-aid or two," I tried to say, but they ignored me as they began to argue: hospital or Avengers Tower? The question was answered when Ms. Marvel came knocking on our front door.

"I can fly at Mach 4, and there's no traffic in the sky," she pointed out. "I'll take her to the Tower." The Black Widow stood beside her, looking windswept. They had obviously come straight from the battle, traveling by air. "I'll be careful not to move her hand, too."

"What happened to the Enchantress?" I interrupted. "And did you see Loki?"

"They got away. Now's not the time," Tasha responded curtly. "You okay with going with Carol?"

I nodded. "'Course."

Steve turned to me, the tiny crease still between his eyebrows. "I'll take my motorcycle and meet you there soon," he said gently. "You going to be alright?"

"Yeah, I'm not five," I arched an eyebrow. "It looks worse that it is."

He studied me intently for a moment, and then out of the blue, he leaned down and kissed me. Hard. My eyes widened in shock, but it was over before I could react.

Carol wrapped one arm around my waist and took off through the open doorway and down the staircase, flying out into the street and then up into the sky. She held me close to her body while keeping me upright, rather than carrying me bridal-style or piggy-backing me: she was strong enough to carry me with one arm. I shut my eyes against the wind, and we were at the Tower before I knew it. Unfortunately, I now felt like throwing up.

Jarvis the butler descended upon us right away, ushering me off into the hospital room. Yes, we had one of those: we were Avengers. We needed a hospital room more often than not. Tony had financed and built it a while ago, after an ugly run-in with the Absorbing Man. Steve and I had been given permission to paint the walls, and you could tell who had done which wall: Steve's was a beautiful mural that looked like it should've been in a museum, and mine was a splash of paint that somewhat resembled a T-Rex (don't tell anyone, but it was supposed to be a giraffe. I like giraffes in hospital rooms).

Jarvis sat me down and bandaged my hand up lightly, after I gave him permission to stab me with a needle: he was injecting me with some new experimental drug that Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four had come up with. It was supposed to heal bones quickly, and I took that chance, since I knew another fight couldn't be far away. Tony's butler called up two medical assistants from some of the lower floors in Avengers Tower, and they got to work surgically removing the glass from my head and side. Jarvis tasked himself with wiping up the blood and stopping my nosebleed, then forced me into the shower and new, clean clothing afterwards.

By the time the painkillers had kicked in and they were all done, I was just about ready to pass out. It was 3 in the morning, and anyone sane in the world was sleeping. Still, I needed to do a debriefing or _something_ on the mission: I felt restless. Getting up from the operating table, I wandered out into the kitchen of Avengers Tower, Asgardian scroll in hand.

Two voices drifted over to me from the living room as I rooted through the fridge. Every movement hurt. My entire body was sore. Still, I stopped to listen to Tony and Steve, bickering.

"Your stupid plan could have gotten her killed. You didn't see her when she came back from the mission," Steve was angrily saying.

"Hey, c'mon, I didn't want her to get hurt either, it just turned out that way. She probably got a truckload of info, anyway," the billionaire replied.

"It was foolish to pretend she was your daughter," Steve's voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "It should have been me out there, taking the risks and dealing with the pain." Back in the kitchen, I frowned at a carton of apple juice and put the scroll down on the counter.

"Whatever you say, Captain Flagpole. I'm sure Sammy's very proud of what she's done. Give her a rest."

"It should have been me!" Steve's voice grew in volume. "Why should others be getting hurt when I would gladly take their place? I was built to do that, Tony, I'm supposed to be the one sticking my neck out."

"Are you jealous?" I could hear Tony's cheeky grin.

"No! Of course not! But I said it already, I'm the expendable one-"

"Now, now, Captain-"

Steve huffed. "I at least should have been on the response team. We should've sent someone powerful, like you or me or Thor, and then maybe Enchantress and Loki wouldn't have escaped."

"Okay," I grabbed the apple juice and walked into the living room, making them both jump. "Okay. Everyone just calm the hell down. Steve, you are not expendable," I glared at him, "but Tony, he's right, it was a stupid plan. Still," I unscrewed the lid from the juice carton, "it worked. I don't know what you two chauvinists think, but I consider it a success - not just for our Avengers, but also for the Femmes Fatales."

They both looked at me oddly.

"It's this stupid all-female team that Janet came up with, okay? Pep, Tash and I have all been making fun of it behind her back since Day One. But today," I took a sip straight from the carton, "it really worked. An all-girls team. We executed the entire mission - the extraction, I mean - by ourselves. And I don't know if you noticed, but our opponent was female, too."

"Sammy, we respect you female heroines-" Tony stared, but I went on.

"Us girls are tired of always taking the backseat to you guys. We're just as powerful and just as smart. I'm not a man-hating feminist or anything, but this is a step forward for women, okay? The Femmes Fatales just proved we don't need you boys to get shit done!" I snapped. "You don't need to do everything for us, Steve. I can take care of myself. And Tony, we could totally kick your butt."

They exchanged glances.

"I'm just trying to say," I sipped from the juice carton once more, "that we're tired of sitting on the sidelines. Well, except Pepper. She likes the sidelines. Then she can direct us all around like a puppet master. But that's beside the point."

They both cracked a smile.

"I'm sorry, babe, I just don't want to see you get hurt-"

"You're going to have to get over that," I deadpanned. "I'm going to get hurt. A lot. I have to find comfort in pain now. At least it means I'm not dead. And it's in the job description, and comes with not having armor or superhuman physique."

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

We stared at each other for a long moment, and then not unlike he had done back in our flat, Steve lunged forward to kiss me again. Awkwardly enough, we bumped noses. "Uh," he blinked, pulling back. "That was - uh. Sorry."

"Um," I blushed awkwardly. He went to kiss me again, eyes closed, and once more we crashes faces. "Ow," I said this time, and Steve turned red as a tomato.

"Right. I'll be off," Tony shuffled away. "I'm going to plan my birthday party. Pepper thinks I should do a retreat, like yoga or something silly. I told her no way, that's what _she_ wants to do. Anyway, you two have fun trying to swap spit while Iron Man's off saving the free world," he bounced out of the room.

As soon as he was gone Steve crushed me in a hug, wrapping one arm around my waist and the other around my shoulders, pulling me close. He rested his chin on the top of my head, saying, "I was really worried about you."

I breathed in deeply, smiling at his smell. He still wore his ARMY t-shirt, although he had changed his pants. His hair hadn't been styled yet, either. "I know you were," I closed my eyes, feeling perfectly safe. Finally. "You really don't need to be."

"Oh, Sam," he hugged me tighter. "Sam, Sam, Sam. You have no idea. No idea what's it's like for me - the prospect of losing everything, again. That in the blink of an eye, the entire world can change. How easy it would be to lose you! You're such a fragile little girl," he buried his face in my hair. "You have no idea how I really feel about you."

"Then tell me," I said softly.

". . . I'm scared," he reluctantly admitted.

"Then show me," I whispered, pulling his face down to mine and finally kissing him. He responded more passionately than he ever had before, his lips warm against mine and his taste as comforting as always. He dominated the kiss, opening his mouth and tilting my head back, but I loved it. It was a kiss that was hot as fire and soft as silk. His kisses always seemed to burn me, and no one else could ever make me feel that way. I ran my fingers through his blonde hair and grabbed a handful of it, pulling him closer as he crushed my mouth to his. Our tongues fought for control over the kiss, but I think he could tell that I liked how he was taking control.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against my lips, lifting my feet off the ground. I blushed, wrapping my legs around his waist. He started, looking a bit alarmed, but to my surprise he didn't protest. Instead he put his hands under my butt, to hold me up.

I kissed him again, as he tried to move over to the couch. He was so wrapped up in kissing me that the walk became slow and awkward. First, he bumped into the table, nearly knocking us both down to the floor; he then walked my shoulder straight into the lamp, and it swayed back and forth.

"Having a little trouble there, Captain?" I giggled.

He glared at me. "Shush, I'm trying to concentrate here." Steve gently bit my lower lip in retribution.

Finally, we made it to the couch. He sat down and I settled into his lap, my legs still straddling his. Heat pooled in my body. Pooled in all the right places. My hips involuntarily lifted, trying to find his, and my back arched as I whimpered. Steve's body was so warm beneath mine, and I could tell by the way he shifted awkwardly that he felt the heat pooling in him too. Was that Mjolnir in his pants, or was he just happy to see me? Okay, oh my God, please ignore that. Forgive me for that horrible pun. Please, I'll never live that down. Just forget it. That's what I get for hanging around Luke.

Our kiss was gentle and we kept our arms locked tightly as we finally succeeded in getting lost in each other, forgetting about the struggles of the day. I didn't need to worry when I was with Steve. He was my everything. He would even be "expendable" for me. God, I loved him.

"Steve-" I broke away, aiming to say it out loud, but he just tucked my head back under his chin.

"Shh. Shhhhh," he said soothingly, rocking me back and forth. "It's okay, baby. You're okay."

My eyelids drooped, exhaustion finally settling in. Lucky Steve never got tired: it was part of the Super Soldier Serum. Slowly, he picked me up off him and set me back down on the couch. I opened my eyes just wide enough to see him grab a blanket and a pillow for me.

"I have to go back to flat, to check on your brother," he said softly. "You need to rest."

"Bullshit. You're staying here."

He raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if praying for the strength to deal with me. "Sam, I really have to-"

"No, you don't. It's 3 in the morning. Luke'll be fine. You need sleep yourself, too." Conflict flashed over his face. "Come on, Stevie."

"I guess . . ."

I smiled, getting off the couch. "There. Now you lie down, and then I lie down with my back to you. It's called spooning. Or, you know, cuddling."

"We both have our own rooms at the Tower, we can sleep in a normal bed . . ."

"No. Lie down," I pushed him onto the couch. "I want to be close to you."

"The bed's close."

"Closer."

He sighed, but lay down anyway. I was nearly about to pass out on my feet, so after I had arranged myself on the couch with him it was Steve who organized the blankets.

"Cozy now?" he asked, and I nodded silently, closing my eyes. When I was close to Steve like this, the nightmares didn't appear in the darkness. Sure, I might still dream about horrors and creeps, but they weren't hiding behind my eyelids, ready to pounce as soon as I shut them. With Steve here, those terrors and demons were far away.

He played with my hair as I fell asleep, examining each golden blonde strand. Finally, just as I drifted off, I felt him drape his arm over my body, pulling me closer once more.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello once again, lovely readers. There you have it, a bit of fluff and a bit of action ;) all mixed together in one chapter. By the way, I don't own anything (except maybe the Silvermans, and my own plot/ideas).**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time: _CeffylGwyn, Awareness, Shadow Realm Triforce, Comiccrazygothgirl, ClarinetRox88, brandibuckeye, erica . phoenix 16, GoForTehGig, roxxirox _and_ InLoveWithTheRogue_! It means so much to me when you all review, as you guys are my inspiration :) Thank you so, so much.**

**Next on Silver Flames: Thor reads the scroll, Sam nearly loses her job, Steve has an odd dream and Luke finally gets to take the spotlight! Stay tuned, and until next time, READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	19. Nightmares

Steve Rogers' POV

_I still get nightmares. In fact, I get them so often I should be used to them by now. I'm not. No one ever really gets used to nightmares."_

_- House of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski_

I stood in the Stork Club, wearing my old brown military suit - the one with all the medals on it. But it was too big, and I was drowning in the fabric. It took me a moment to realize it was because I was back to my pre-Project: Rebirth state. I was skinny and sickly and frail once again. It felt . . . natural.

The band was playing Bruce Springsteen, one of Sam's favorite rock artists. I only recognized it because of the harmonica. Everyone was dressed up like they used to be, back before the Second World War. Men and woman waltzed around the floor, smiling and ignoring me.

Peggy stood by the door, a smile plastered on her face. She wore that beautiful red dress I had seen her in at this very club, once. Something was wrong with her, though. Her skin was too pale, her lips too red, her hair too shiny. She looked like a doll. Like she was fake. But she still looked beautiful.

I walked towards to her, tripping over my too-long pants. "Peggy?" I asked, wanting to affirm she was real. "Peggy?"

She smiled at me, her eyes glassy. "Hello, Captain. Enjoying your evening?"

"Yes - but it's - it's so good to see you again-"

"You should be back in the bunker, preparing for tomorrow's mission," the smile suddenly dropped from her face, and her eyes clouded over. Peggy's voice now sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "What are you doing, Captain? You're being wasteful. You're going to get someone killed because you're not doing your job," she growled. "It should be you out there, dying for this country! It should be you dying! Die! I said die, Captain!" She grabbed the lapels of my coat and shook me.

"Peggy, I'm sorry, I'm trying!"

"You didn't save us!" she cried. "You left us to die and turn to dust! Each and every one of us, you left us behind!"

". . . Papa?"

There was a tiny voice from down beside my hip, and just like that, Peggy disappeared: she grew older and older before my eyes, withering away to a pile of ash by my feet. It reminded me of the death of the antagonist in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, one of Doctor Banner's favorite films.

I looked down at the owner of the small voice. It was a little boy, no more than four, with shaggy blonde hair and big grey eyes. He looked . . . well, he looked just like me. Except for those eyes. Those were definitely Sam's eyes.

"Papa, I miss you," he said, tugging on my hand. "Why didn't I ever get to meet you?"

I frowned. "Wha- what do you mean?"

"Why'd she have to take me away?"

"Who took you away?" I knelt down, sudden concern forming a knot in my stomach. "What happened?"

He ignored me, and just kept on posing questions. "What's wrong with Mommy?" he asked, turning and pointing to the bar in the Stork Club.

Samantha sat there, shaking like a leaf in the wind. All the veins stood out in her pale skin in an unnatural way, and her eyes were wide with terror. They were transfixed on something in the distance, something that I couldn't see. Blood was pouring down on the ground around her, forming a puddle, but I couldn't see where it came from.

"Sam!" I cried her name, lunging for her. Just as quickly, the scene changed. The club was empty: Sam, the little boy, the dancing people, the band playing Bruce Springsteen, even Peggy's pile of ash were all gone. Only one person remained: a man who had been watching from the shadows; a man I hadn't seen before. His laugh now made my blood run cold. It felt as though ice had entered my veins.

"You think you're safe in your new home with your new family and your new life, in the shadow of your Brooklyn Bridge?" his voice was heavily accented. "Where know one knows the quiet man down the street is really Captain America?"

There was a long pause. I cautiously took a step forward, and the man went on. "But I know you, Rogers . . . I know what losing people does to you. I could put a bullet between your eyes anytime I want, and you'd never see it coming."

"Show yourself," I tried to say confidently, but it came out like a mouse's squeak.

"But that would be too easy," he went on as if I hadn't interrupted him. "I need to make you suffer. Because you do it so well, Rogers . . . suffering, I mean. And that's our destiny, after all, isn't it . . . ?"

"Who are you?" my eyebrows creased.

He continued. ". . . The two of us, Locked in eternal combat down through the years . . . keeping each other miserable. What would we even be without the other? I suppose it's time we found out."

He finally stepped out of the shadows, and I was greeted with the most terrifying sight I had seen that night in the Stork Club. The face of a man so evil, so twisted, and so corrupted that even Hitler had been afraid of him. My lifelong adversary. As Sam would put it, the Joker to my Batman.

The Red Skull.

"But before you die, I promise you, you will know suffering on a whole new level," his voice chilled me to the bone. "And when I strip your life of all meaning, you'll-"

"WHERE DID THIS SCROLL COME FROM?"

I jolted awake, immediately alert and tense. Thor stood in the living room, waving around a piece of parchment paper. He had one towel wrapped around his waist and another around his head, turban-style: he had just gotten out of the shower, and it made him look much less threatening than usual.

"Hoo boy," I exhaled, blinking hastily. God, what a nightmare. Usually I dreamed about the war, but this - this was something different. As I ran my hands over my face, I tried to remember what it was the Skull had told me - who that little boy was - but it was already fading. Still, the agony in my heart didn't disappear.

I was sitting upright on the couch, Sam's head in my lap. Her skin wasn't pale and her veins weren't sticking out prominently, thank God. Last night (well, I suppose this morning), she had dropped off to sleep right away. I was left wide awake, awkwardly cuddling with her on the couch. I couldn't fall asleep myself: I wasn't comfortable enough. I was too big and too muscular, and we barely even fit on the couch together.

When Sam had woken up screaming and crying from a nightmare three hours later, I had gotten the chance to move. I sat up and coddled her back to sleep, soothing her into just laying her head contentedly on my lap. That way, I had been able to get a bit of shut-eye by sitting up.

Now, though, it seemed like Thor was crusading to end it.

And so were the rest of the Avengers.

Every one of them was sitting in the living room, watching Thor shout about the scroll. "Thanks for waking us up," I grumbled to Janet, who was perched on the back in the couch. "Please tell me no one drew on my face."

"No, but Tony wanted to," she chirped. "It was Carol who said we should just let you sleep."

I looked over at the blonde, who was in her Ms. Marvel costume. She blushed, looking down at Sam. "You two looked cute together. Happy," she said, and I thought I detected a trace of sadness in her tone.

"Why was this scroll in the kitchen?" Thor boomed, accidentally smacking Hank on the face with it as he waved it around. "Where did it come from?" The scroll in question was covered in delicate Asgardian writing, and it smelled a bit like smoke.

"I picked it up from the Enchantress," Sam's voice came from my lap. I hadn't even noticed she had woken up; she just hadn't moved. "I was hoping you could read it, Thor, the only ancient language I know is Latin-"

"I can read it," his voice deepened (which I actually didn't think was possible), "and I have read it. It warns of things to come."

"Hit us with it, big boy," Tony beat on his chest like a gorilla.

Thor took a deep breath, his eyes locked on the parchment. "The Mad Titan is planning an assult on Midgard. A lethal assult. He aims to exterminate this planet."

"Who's the Mad Titan?" Clint wondered from where he was perched on top of the DVD cabinet, watching us all like a hawk.

"His name is Thanos. He has purple skin and electric blue eyes, and he is in love with Death."

"H-how can someone be in love with death?" Dr. Banner asked, wiping his glasses obsessively.

"Death is an entity. A part of the universe. Her title is _Mistress_ Death," Thor tried to explain. "She is a natural phenomenon that you Midgardians are familiar with, I believe? Asgard does not see much of her, since we are immortals, but she comes to Midgard frequently, no?"

"And this . . . Thanos . . . is in love with her?"

"He wishes to court Death, yes."

"Loki and Enchantress are working for Thanos. Amora told me," Sam confided. "She said he has some sort of personal goal to meet."

"This scroll," Thor announced, "while it may not be their plan of attack, it is their motive. Thanos desires the destruction of Midgard because that means death, and he thinks death will impress Mistress Death. He wishes to prove his love destroying all life."

"Fun," Carol huffed, blowing a strand of hair away from her face. "So, do you Avengers deal with stuff like this all the time?"

"No. This is above and beyond our experience," Hank replied, then immediately looked like he wished he had kept his mouth shut when Carol glared daggers at him. I wondered what had happened between them.

"So, what, is that why Enchantress and Loki are here now? Are they preparing for total war?" Natasha posed the one question we were all thinking.

"We have no way to tell. This scroll does not share such delicate information," Thor sounded disappointed. "But rest assured, when they come, we must be ready for them!"

"We barely beat Loki last time. How are we going to fight a Titan?" Sam's voice was scared. I ran my hand through her hair.

"We have the warriors Wasp, Ant-Man and Ms. Marvel on our side this time. They have proved more than capable," the Thunder God replied. "And I can pull down the Warriors Three and Lady Sif from Asgard to help, if need be. We will not let Midgard go to waste. It is the jewel of the galaxy."

"I say we start preparing now," I raised my voice. "We need battle plans. We need training. We need armor and weapons. We need quick medical remedies. We need to prepare the city, too - lay traps and set up defences. Use this city's natural resources and geography to help us. Home court advantage, after all."

"Outside help couldn't hurt, either," Dr. Banner pitched his idea nervously. "I'm in contact with Reed Richards: I'm sure the Fantastic Four will aid us. So will S.H.I.E.L.D. And if we somehow get the X-Men to pitch in, we'll be unstoppable."

"Carol and I are in with Spider-Man, too," said Sam, "and he knows this city better than anyone. We could contact all those lone heroes, like Daredevil and the Falcon, too."

"We must prepare for war. The rules of the game are changing," Thor was grim. "We cannot afford to lose."

"That's only so long as there really is a war and an army coming," Janet's voice of reason popped up. "Amora was here to kidnap Sam so she could try to find out more about the Avengers."

I snapped my fingers. "What if - what if that first invasion, the Battle of New York, was so Thanos and Loki could find out what they'd be up against? They needed to know who would defend the planet, right?"

"And now that they know our names and faces," Tony caught on, "they need to know what we can do. How our minds work."

Janet nodded. "See? They're being careful. They're taking their time and planning this out thoroughly."

"Do you think it's got anything to do with Ultron and the Mandarin?" Natasha asked. "Are they working for the Mad Titan too?"

"I do not believe he would recruit Midgardians - especially artificial intelligence units - for his war," said Thor. "He believes he is above that."

"That's why he's associated with Enchantress and Loki now," Clint caught on.

"So, fine. We don't think they're going to attack soon," I said. "But what about if - _when_ - they do?"

"_Crap_, I'm going to be late for work," Sam suddenly sat upright, her eyes wild. "Look, nice talking to you all about the apocalypse, but if I'm late for my job at the museum one more time, I'm going to be fired. No joke."

"I'll fly you over," Ms. Marvel said, and Sam smiled gratefully.

"Yeah, I have to be going, I'm missing a Stark Industries board meeting," Tony straightened out his suit and tie. "Catch you all later."

"Mmm, I kind of have a fashion show that I'm supposed to be at . . ." That was Janet.

"And Hank and I need to get back to the lab, we've almost got a breakthrough on the new adjustments Tony's been making to Sam's serum." Bruce.

"I'm still moving into my new place." Clint.

"Well, fine, I suppose the meeting is adjourned," I sighed. "Since, you know, our other lives are more important than the end of the world."

"Steve, you know we don't think that," Natasha unfolded herself from her chair like a cat. "This is top priority Avengers stuff. But it's not urgent."

"Not yet," I argued, but everyone was pretty much gone.

Sam ran her hand through her hair as she walked into our bedroom, grabbing her museum uniform. I followed after her, absentmindedly thinking of how good last night (this morning) had felt. Maybe I kind of understood what Sam meant about this whole touching thing.

"I've got a meeting with S.H.I.E.L.D about a possible contract, but I'm going to go home and check on Luke first, okay?" I said, as she stripped down to her underwear and bra. If it had been yesterday, I would have looked away. But because of that morning, I was feeling brave - and curious. I couldn't hold down that simple male wonder and appreciation forever.

Samantha wore a black bra that was both demure and racy, and boy short panties, which left a lot of skin for my eye to see: her toned, flat stomach and long, gorgeous (and bruised) legs. I watched the curve of her back as she bent down to pick up her shirt from the floor, blonde hair falling over her shoulder.

"Yeah, he probably got a bit of a shock last night, seeing me like that," her voice brought me back down to earth. "But my hand's healed quickly. It's great." Her fingers were slow and clumsy as she buttoned up the white shirt. I suppressed a wanting sigh as she pulled the fabric over her pale, curved breasts. The black bra was still slightly visible through the shirt, but there was a maroon vest that was part of the uniform that covered it up.

Sam was pulling her hair out of the collar of her shirt and fluffing it out when she caught me staring. My face turned bright red and just like that, I went back to being chaste, virgin Steve, staring at the floor and awkwardly mumbling an apology. She just laughed good-naturedly.

"Steve, honey, if I was uncomfortable with this, I wouldn't be changing in front of you," I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yeah, but _I'm_ uncomfortable with it," I mumbled. She bounced up to me, catching my chin in her hand and standing on her tip-toes to kiss me. She deepened the kiss, pulling me down closer to her as I put my wide-palmed hands on her waist. I not-so-accidentally rucked up her shirt there so that I could touch the pale, soft skin I had just admired.

She pulled her lips back, eyes wide. Obviously she hadn't been expecting that, and once again, I reverted back into being conservative. "Put some pants on," I said, staring at the floor. "I'm - I'm going home. Have a good day at work."

"Stevie-" her voice was filled with concern.

"Look, Sam, it's not because I'm not attracted to you," the words spilled out of my mouth. "You're beautiful. Every part of you. I just - I just-"

I wanted to say I wasn't ready. But after this morning, I wasn't so sure.

"I just don't know what to do," I finished with.

"Well," Sam took a step closer to me, looking up into my face, "I can show you." I began to laugh. "What?!" her face was puzzled.

"I'd - I'd love that," I chuckled, "but you really do need to be getting to work."

She huffed, resuming the search for her pants as I slipped out of the room, down the hall, down the elevator and then into Tony's parking garage. There was parked my precious modified Harley Davidson motorcycle (the one that Natasha had given me after destroying the last).

I got on and roared off into New York City traffic, weaving between cars and enjoying the humming of the powerful engine. I loved my motorcycle, I couldn't deny it. Even during the war, I had used one. Sam, Tony and Janet could drive all the Bugattis and Maseratis that they wanted. I was sticking with my Harley Davidson.

For the first time in a while, the sky was clear and it wasn't snowing. The sun was out, making the freshly-fallen snow glitter in the light, and the crisp blue sky was a welcome sight. I spent half my ride back home reveling in it, admiring the bright blue and the sun.

It was quiet back in the flat. I kicked off my boots at the front door, calling out for Sam's brother. I got no response. I assumed he was just sleeping, so I went into his room to check. Opening the door a crack, I peered through the darkness of the bedroom.

The bed was empty.

I flicked on the light just to be sure. Yep, no Luke. He wasn't in the bathroom, either. "Luke?" I called out louder this time, and suddenly I felt sick to the stomach. Intuition, you can call it. "Luke, where are you?" Still no response.

I stepped into the kitchen and, finding no one, was about to check my bedroom when I noticed the big green carton of bleach on the counter. Now, that sure as hell hadn't been there when I left. The knot in my stomach tightened.

"Luke!" I cried, panicking as I ran through the flat. He was nowhere to be found: just that bottle of bleach and, in the bathroom, his anti-depressants were spilled everywhere. On a whim I ran into the living room, where I kept my seldom-used computer.

Shaking the mouse, the screen lit up to the last opened web page. I saw the title of it - Suicide Methods - at the same time as the suicide note beside the mouse.

"Shit," I actually swore, my heart pounding. No. No way. This could not be happening. This, right now, this was scarier than any villain I'd ever faced. Scarier than the threat of Thanos, killing the entire world. I would not let Sammy's little brother die; not on my watch. That would _break_ her. I stared to pace the living room. The question was, where the hell was Luke?

I shivered, trying not to think of what might happen if he died. No, this shouldn't be happening! He was on antidepressants for a reason; he had been sent out here to try and feel better! Wait - I paused. I wasn't shivering because of my thoughts. It was because the widow was open!

I stuck my head out of the window, looking down. Nope, no splattered teenager on the sidewalk. But maybe up . . . we weren't high enough for a lethal fall, you'd have to climb higher. And this window did lead out to the fire escape.

I didn't have to think about it twice. Pushing myself to go as fast as I possibly could, I scaled up the fire escape ladder like Spider-Man. Each floor I passed only added to my agony. What if he wasn't up there, on the roof of the building?

I held my breath up the last ladder.

And then finally I was on the roof, and Luke was there, standing on the edge that overlooked the Brooklyn Bridge in the distance.

I lunged forward and caught him around the waist without announcing myself, pulling him back from the edge. He screamed, twisting and trying to push away from me. We both fell to the ground, rolling over each other before I could get a handle on the slim boy.

Tears were rolling down his face, soaking it. "No, no, no, no, no, just let me go," he pounded his fists against my chest, attempting to get out of my grasp. "Let me go, let me go, let me go. Just let me die. I just want to die," he sobbed.

"No. Luke, no," I struggled to control him, holding him tightly against my body. He reached for the edge of the building like a drowning person reaching for air. "Shh. Calm down. You're okay. Talk to me, Luke. What's going on?"

He slowly curled up into a ball, rocking against me as I held him. "I just want to die. I just want to die. Let me die," he repeated, over and over and over again. I petted the top of his head, trying to soothe him. Trying not to think of what I might do if it was Sam who wanted to kill herself, not Luke. They looked so similar . . .

Eventually his sobbing stopped, and he started to hiccup. He didn't move, though, and just lay there curled up beside me, trembling. I was half-sitting, half-lying down, one arm wrapped firmly around him to make sure he didn't run.

The hiccuping stopped. We were left sitting in silence, his breath heavy, uneven and punctuated with sniffles. "C'mon," I said. "I know something fun we can do."

I led him back down the fire escape and into my flat, letting the blonde teen wash his face and put on a shirt that wasn't all covered in snot. We then walked outside together in silence and I hailed a cab, giving the driver an address in Manhattan.

Luke was quiet the whole ride. His eyes were still red and puffy, and he looked unspeakably sad. He wouldn't look me in the eye; instead he passed the ride looking out the window forlornly. Luke was really struggling to hold it together.

Finally we reached our destination, and he got out as I paid the taxi driver. Seeing where we were, Luke said his first words to me: "An _ice cream_ shop? It's the middle of winter."

"No matter," I held open the door for him. Inside, the place wasn't very busy, and the only people in there were buying hot chocolates and cakes. When it came to be our turn, Luke and I both ordered ice cream cones.

"Now we walk," I said, licking my chocolate. He stared at the floor as he trailed after me all the way down the street and around the corner. There, I stopped.

"And here, we eat."

We were standing outside a fitness centre with glass walls, looking in at the men and women on the treadmills and bikes. They all gave us nasty looks as we ate our ice cream just out of their reach, watching them try to lose weight as we put it on.

Luke began to giggle.

"This is what I did with your sister on our first date," I said. "Then, in the park, she showed me what happens when you put mentos in a coke bottle. Shall we take a walk over to Central Park?" He reluctantly agreed.

"How is Sam?" Luke asked quietly, biting at his ice cream cone as we walked away from the fitness center.

"She's fine. Actually, she's in really good shape. Back at work already and everything."

"Oh."

"She's going to be okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Are you going to be okay?"

There was a long pause. Finally, he said, "Were you really beat up as a kid?"

"All the time."

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't run away. Because one day, they were picking on another little boy, because he was a Jew. I wasn't a friend of his. I didn't know why he was getting beat up. But I knew that it was wrong, and despite my frail physique, I stood up for him. I got messed up pretty badly, too. But I gained courage that day."

"You're just a soldier," he said, as if it had just occurred to him. "You're not a superhero. You're a soldier to the American people."

"Yes."

"You'll take care of my sister?"

"Undoubtedly."

We made it to Central Park and picked a random snowy path to walk down as we continued to eat our ice cream. "I have a confession. I haven't been taking my antidepressants."

"Why?"

"I . . . don't want to. I just . . . look, I don't even know why I'm talking to you," he grumbled.

"Luke? Can you put down the walls, just for a moment? Talk to me. Please."

He huffed, but his face relaxed. "Look, you probably think I just - I just-" his breath shuddered, "well, you know. What I did. Back there. Uh, you probably think I did . . . that . . . because seeing Sam last night traumatized me. And, I mean, it did. But it was only the icing on the cake," he crackled his knuckles.

"Luke, I understand. I know what it's like to want to just . . . die," I sighed through my nose.

"Yeah, but you haven't experienced all the cyber bullying like I have. People can be so much meaner in this day and age. You haven't been here the past - two years? Yeah, two - when I've been bullied. Mom thought sending me out to the Big Apple would "magically cure me" because I'm away from the bullies. But now there's the internet, and they . . . they've been bullying me even while I'm out here, too. It _follows _me. I _know_ you come from a tough childhood, but I'm just not as strong as you."

"Nonsense. You're the bravest teenager I've ever met. I don't know a single other boy who could put up with such a strange sister as well as you do."

"Oh, you have no idea. Did you know she was bullied when she was a kid, too?"

I frowned. "No, she never brought it up."

"Yeah, she doesn't talk about it. I wouldn't even be surprised if she's completely blocked it from her mind," Luke sighed. "She could quite possibly be a sociopath because of it, not gonna lie. And . . . I'm - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have . . ."

"Tried to kill yourself," I said softly.

"I started with the bleach!" he threw up his hands, "but I didn't have the guts to drink it. And I couldn't figure out how to tie a noose, let alone where I might hang it from."

"Luke," I shook my head, snaking my arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer. "Please don't ever think you're worthless. Don't kill yourself. I know you've probably heard it before, but it's a permanent solution to a temporary problem. So many people love you, and although you're going through a tough time now, it gets better. I promise you."

"I don't even know if I'll be able to handle today, and tomorrow, and the day after," his eyes watered. "I hate my life. I hate everything about it."

"But you don't need to die. You'll grow up and find a job, and then you'll get married and have beautiful kids." He chuckled. "Take it from someone who thought he'd never have a future. Someone who thought he'd die of some sort of sickness before he was thirty."

"You _promise_ me you'll protect Sam."

"I promise. Trust me, Luke, I'd do anything for her."

"You love her?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Hmm." He looked up at me. "Wait. I know that look. You've got a story, don't you?"

"Luke-"

"C'mon, Grampa Steve, let's hear a story. When this whole country is against you - when it's bearing down on you like a ten-ton weight - and you don't know your own heart anymore sometimes . . . how does someone like you deal with it? I mean, you practically _are_ the country. How does a man who _is_ the country react when the country goes a different way? This new future that you've been thrown into . . . What's your superhero motto, Cap? What is it you believe in? What do you _fight_ for?"

"You really want to know?" I sighed, putting my hands in my pockets. "Doesn't matter what the press says. Doesn't matter what the politicians or the mobs say. Doesn't matter if the whole country decides that something wrong is something right.

"This nation was founded on one principle above all else: The requirement that we stand up for what we believe, no matter the odds or the consequences.

"When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the River of Truth, and tell the whole world -_ No, you move_."

There was a long silence that seemed to stretch between us forever.

"Can I, like, carry your books to school? For the rest of my life?"

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye.

"I'm serious. I can give you the rest of my ice cream cone. Here, have it," he shoved it in my face. I shook my head. "Well, you know, it's nice to know - you're that one hero who's never going to betray your convictions, no matter what. You won't betray those who follow you."

"I'm just doing my duty to the country."

Luke threw his leftover cone into a garbage can. I had already finished mine. "I think I approve of you being with my sister, now. I give in. You have my permission to date her. You're not as bad as I thought you were."

"I was going to date her with or without your permission," I smiled.

"Yeah, but this just makes it easier."

"You feeling any better?"

He shrugged. "I guess."

"Can you promise me you'll take your medication and you won't go throwing yourself off any buildings?"

He chuckled. "I can't believe I actually have _Captain America_, a living legend, watching over me."

"Can you promise me, Luke?"

He reluctantly nodded.

"This will stay between us, all right?" I said softly. "I'm trying to protect your sister from knowing . . ."

"Thanks," he admitted. "And hey, Winghead, thanks for the ice cream."

"My treat, Luke. I know the road to you getting better isn't as simple as a promise, but I want to help you. You're too strong to quit now."

"I just . . . had a really bad night . . ."

"You ever feel like that again, call me right away, okay? And, by the way, if you had jumped but failed to kill yourself, you could have damaged an organ, fractured a bone, or paralyzed yourself." He glared at me. "Just saying."

"Let's go visit Sam at her museum," he said, as we reached the end of our path and emerged on the other side of the city. "And hey, serious question: have you two actually had sex?"

"Isn't that kind of personal?"

He raised an eyebrow, and I sighed.

"No."

"Oh," he looked dumbfounded. "Really?"

"Really."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Oh."

I chuckled. "C'mere, you," I headlocked the young boy, messing up his blonde hair with one hand. "Let's set you back on the road to good mental health. You've got Captain America by your side this time."

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your continued support, and special thanks those lovely reviewers: _InLoveWithTheRogue, Lady Firewing, erica . phoenix16, CeffylGwyn, Shadow Realm Triforce, Lovergirl24, GoForTehGig, clarinetgirl628 _and_ brandibuckeye!_

Until next time, everyone, and please leave a review telling me what you thought! Remember, anonymous reviews _are_ accepted, but please, no flames! READERS ASSEMBLE!


	20. There for You

Tony Stark's POV

_I may not always be there with you, but I will always be there for you._

_- Unknown_

"Come on now, Pepper, just try it once."

"Tony, I'm supposed to be showing you the new-"

"The new Stark Phone? What happened to giving the world free energy?"

"We're still working on that, it just takes time-"

"Now, come on, just hold your hand out like this."

"Tony, this is ridiculous. I'm working-"

"I think I want to throw a party. Prepare the house in Dubai, will you? Make sure Rhodey will be there."

"You're exasperating."

Pepper and I stood in Avengers Tower, in the new practice room. I had coerced her into trying on the new Iron Man glove, and was trying to get her to aim it and shoot at a target.

"Why is the armor white?" she asked, flexing the fingers of the hand. A repulsor light shone out at her from the palm.

"I'm building a new suit. Now stop wasting my time," I wrapped my arms around her from the back, one hand holding her waist and the other her wrist. "Just raise your hand like this," I aimed her hand at the target, "and-"

The repulsor beam shot off, making her stumble back; we missed the target by nearly a foot. The Iron Man hand worked, though, which was good enough for me.

"C'mon, Pep, work on that aim," I slapped her ass and walked away. She yelped.

"Tony, we need to work on the new Stark Industries technology."

"What is there to work on?" I shrugged, walking backwards so I could watch her.

"Well, you signed a contract with the army for a new explosive, and we're supposed to be looking at that green energy source that powers this tower. Plus, we've got to review last quarter's profit and the percentage of-"

I scoffed. "I'm Iron Man." There was a silence. "Do you know what that means? You don't even know what that means. I protect the free world. I'm Iron Man-"

"Okay, Iron Man, there's a report on your desk from the government regarding the War Machine suit that you need to look at, and S.H.I.E.L.D wants a report from you about the Avengers. Then there's the lawsuit with Hammer Industries, and Rhodey thinks that hanging out with you is bad for your friendship," she winced.

"What?! What does that even mean?"

"It means I'm not inviting him to Dubai," Pepper said matter-of-factly, "because he has work."

"Call a shrink, I want to know what's really going on in his head," I scratched my facial hair.

"Right, and there's a hole in Sam's wall that needs to be fixed."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Pepper, can't you and I just take the day off, spend it lying around with a bottle of champagne?"

"No, Tony, because some of us actually have to work to make a living," she flexed the fingers of the shiny white Iron Man hand again.

"Okay, while you do that, I think I'm going to go throw money off the balcony and make the people down in the street think its raining money."

"You're a terrible human being," she shook her head.

"Thanks, darling. I know you love me," I winked, leaving the room.

I walked through the echoing halls of the Tower until I reached the lab, where Bruce and Hank were working away diligently. Chris Silverman had been given the day off today – I had perfected Sammy's formula less than an hour ago. Now I just had to give it to her.

"Hello, boys," I said, walking in. "What might you both be working on?"

"Giant-Man formula," Hank muttered, not even bothering to look up.

Bruce removed his glasses, glancing across the room at me. "Tony, I've been thinking about Chernobyl and Namor's missing weaponry."

"Yeah? What about 'em?"

"Well, the stolen madbombs are obviously in possession of Sin and the Serpent Squad," he scratched his nose, "but we still don't know who was tampering with the radiation in Chernobyl."

"I'm pretty sure it was Enchantress, there was this - this green glow around everything," I waved my hands about. "But I had forgotten about it, until now. I wonder . . . what's she planning on doing with radiation?"

"That's what I've been wondering. Sam didn't find anything, did she?"

"Not that I'm aware of," I sighed. "Has Carol come up with that battle plan I asked her about yet?"

Hank finally looked up. "Battle plan?"

"Yeah, she's in the USAF, I figured she'd be the next best thing for planning an attack, after Captain Flagpole."

"We're planning an attack on Loki?" Hank sounded surprised.

Bruce shrugged. "I think it's a great idea. About time we brought the fight to the bad guys for once."

Jarvis appeared in the doorway of the lab, his expression tired. "Mister Stark, there's a very threatening guest in the living room, waiting to see you. He has a young girl with him."

"Threatening?"

"Well, he's not friendly, sir."

"Is he claiming I got his daughter pregnant or something? It's happened before with these wackjobs, but sadly for him I haven't hooked up in a while, so he won't be getting anything from me . . ." The three other men in the room made disgusted faces.

I walked to the living room and came upon the very angry man, who was way shorter than I was expecting. Granted, he was stocky, but he barely reached five foot three. He was hairy with mutton chops and a leather jacket, and looked to have more muscles than Thor.

Beside him stood a tall (well, in comparison), lanky girl wearing a green and white coat. She had creamy white skin and brown hair with a white streak through it, and she was giving me the stink eye.

"You could've called before you came over . . ." I raised an eyebrow. The man grunted.

"Stark."

"Wolvie."

"Is there anything I can get you?" Jarvis interrupted politely.

I shrugged. "I don't know, what does Wolverine eat? Raw meat?"

"Fuck you, Stark."

The woman – who I now recognized as the X-Man Rogue – cleared her throat. "Ah'll have a glass a water, if tha's alright," she said in a lovely southern belle accent.

"What brings you two to the Tower?" I asked, plopping myself down on a couch and motioning for them to sit down as well. Wolverine, also known as Logan Howlett, stayed standing as Rogue sat on the couch across from me.

"I heard you wanted Rogue to join the Avengers," he crossed his arms, staring me down.

"Yes, well, that decision's not finalized; I'm still campaigning for Emma Frost -"

"Xavier told me you'd already made the decision," Rogue frowned. "So, Ah came up tah New York t' check it out."

"And Wolverine escorted you?" I raised an eyebrow.

"It's not mah fault, he kept insistin'-"

"I was already in town for the Masquerade Ball," he snapped.

Rogue grinned. "Nah, Ah jus' think he wanted t' make sure his lil' girl was gonna be in safe hands."

I snorted. "Trust me, the Avengers are anything but safe."

She shrugged. "Ah don't mind. Anyway, you guys want a mutant on yer roster? How come?"

"Good publicity for both the Avengers and the X-Men," I replied honestly. "Captain America, Black Widow and I have all reviewed the files Xavier sent us. Plus, I've recently become the target of a lot of people's feminist rights campaigns," I thought of Sammy's rant about the Femme Fatales, "so another woman would be good for the team. Anyway, Widow and Cap thought you seemed like the best candidate for the job. As I said, I'm still holding out for Emma Frost."

She rolled her eyes. "Sorry t' burst yer bubble, but Ah betcha if Emma were here she wouldn't give ya the light o' the day. Th' ice queen don't much like guys like you, unless she can git somethin' out of it."

"So, jerk, is everybody in the Avengers like you?" Wolverine cut in as Jarvis returned with Rogue's water.

"The name's Tony, and no, surprisingly enough we have a few decent people. I bet you'd get along with Carol Danvers, Rogue."

She paled suddenly. "Ah dunno, Mister Stark. Ah kinda . . . bumped inta her yesterday. And y'know what happens when Ah touch people?"

"You absorb their thoughts, memories, feelings . . . powers, if they've got any."

"Yeah. Yeah, tha's righ'. So's anyway, Ah bumped inta Carol and got myself a crash course in Danvers one-oh-one. Also been flying' around all mornin'. Ah didn't know she was a super, Ah swear!"

Wolverine just kept glaring around at the various pieces of furniture in the tower.

"It's no matter, I'm sure she'll understand if you talk to her," I shrugged. "But, hey, wait – now that you two are here, there's actually something I could use help with."

"Stark, asking for help?" Wolverine sounded incredulous, teasing me.

"Shut up. It's Avengers business. We've got an all-out war about to happen with the Mad Titan," I said, and then explained the whole impending conflict with Thanos. "Honestly, as much as it hurts my pride to say this, we could probably use the X-Men's help."

Sighing, Wolverine said, "Well, if the invasion happens on the West Coast, I promise you the X-Men will be there."

Rogue poked him in the leg. "Course we'll help. It's like you said - betta publicity for us mutants. Ah know Xavier wouldn't turn it down, and besides, there ain't nothin' wrong with saving the whole damn world. If we let the humans perish we let the mutants perish, am Ah right?"

Wolverine grunted once more. "We fight for mutants, Rogue, we fight to protect mutants and show that we don't mean the humans any harm. Thanos is an Avengers villain. There's a difference that I don't think you understand."

Pepper walked into the room then, looking flustered. "Tony, two things," the words spilled out of her mouth as if she was trying to say everything before I could interrupt her. "One, Steve wants you to contact the Fantastic Four, and two, I can't get this damn thing off!" she tugged at the Iron Man hand.

Wolverine cleared his throat. Looking up, Pepper blanched. "Excuse me, where are my manners?" she shook her head. "I'm Pepper Potts, one of the heads of Stark Industries and Tony's personal assistant."

I waved my hand. "Don't bother introducing yourselves, she knows who you are, she snoops through all my files." I grabbed Pepper's waist and tugged her down onto my lap. She gasped, but I was just going to remove the Iron Man hand.

"I do not, I'm just doing my job," she grumbled, smiling nervously at the two mutants.

"Well, I'm going," Wolverine grunted.

Rogue got up after him. "Yeah, we'll have to make this an official meeting sometime. Thanks, Mister Stark. For the invite and everythin'. Ah'll remember ta let the prof know about Thanos. Not that Logan's too eager 'bout it," she nudged him with her elbow. Jarvis escorted them out, still looking a bit uncomfortable around Wolverine.

"This Thanos thing is really getting to you, huh?" Pepper asked softly. "Tony, so far it's all guesswork, you don't even have any proof yet."

"I just don't want it to be too late. I'm not just looking out for myself, you know? I've got the whole team to watch out for. You, Steve, Sam, the Avengers . . . the world. As Iron Man, I just fought bad guys. As an Avenger, I fight entire invasions!"

"You still think that yoga retreat is a bad idea?"

I glared at her. "Why does Steve want me to call the Fantastic Four?"

"Uh, well, he wants to see if they'll help with Thanos . . ."

"Damn. Everything has to do with that guy now, doesn't it?"

"Honey . . ."

"JARVIS!" I said, and the butler came rushing to my side. "No, not you Jarvis. Other JARVIS. JARVIS! Suit me up!"

"As you wish, sir," the AI replied, and Jarvis rolled his eyes. Okay, damn, this was getting a little bit confusing.

Less than a minute later I was standing in my living room in my Iron Man suit. I was just about to take off when the elevator dinged, and out stepped Sammy, Steve and Luke Silverman. Luke's jaw dropped when he saw me, and in a flash his cell phone was out and he had taken a picture.

I frowned, not that anyone could really tell. "Pepper, get Lukie a Stark Phone. Sammy's little brother can't be walking around with one of those inferior iPhones."

"Okay, Tony, whatever you wish," Pepper sighed, scribbling something on her notepad.

"Hey, Sammy, go visit Bruce and Hank in the lab, yeah? They've got your serum; it's all good and ready now."

Her eyes lit up. "Thank _God_."

"Actually, it's Tony."

She stuck out her tongue. "Where're you off to?"

"Baxter Building," I fired up my boosters and repulsor, hovering a few feet off the floor. Luke snapped another picture.

"You're going to speak with the Fantastic Four?" Steve asked. I nodded and then took off, not really eager to waste my time by making small talk with them.

The Baxter Building was another tall skyscraper in New York, although it wasn't anywhere near as big an architectural achievement as Avengers Tower was. The Fantastic Four, the First Family of the super world, lived on the top floor: Mr. Fantastic, the Invisible Woman, the Human Torch and the Thing (famous for his catchphrase of "It's clobberin' time!").

"Invite me in, JARVIS, will you?" I asked the AI.

"The security level is high for me to simple let you in, sir. It would take too long to break through. Why don't you just . . . call them?"

I scowled, but had JARVIS send a message anyway. I few moments later, Mr. Fantastic – Reed Richards – had disabled all the security measures that would have blown my head off, had I tried to land on the roof.

"Tony Stark!" he greeted me with a smile as I flew in the balcony door; he reached around me with one of his elastic hands and shut the door. Damn, that was freaky. "What brings you here?"

"I'd like to speak with the Fantastic Four, Reed," I took off my helmet to speak with Reed face-to-face. We were both scientists; minds of the future. And, y'know, friends. Yes, I actually have some of those.

"Ah, Sue and Ben are out with the kids right now," he grimaced. He and his wife Susan (the Invisible Woman) had two kids, Franklin and Valeria Richards, who I had heard could be quite the handful. Ben – the Thing – was basically their babysitter. God, I hoped Sam and Steve didn't start procreating and I was demoted to that level, too.

Of course, Johnny Storm – Sue's brother and the most annoying fourth of the Four – was at the tower. "Stark! My man!" he walked in to see what was going on, grinning ear to ear. "High five, dude!"

I crossed my arms over my chest and left him hanging.

The blonde hothead – literally – went on as if nothing had happened. "So, hey, I hear you're on the VIP list at MJ's nightclub in Chelsea, yeah? I've been trying to get me and a few chicks in there for a few weeks now, but what do you know, MJ won't let me in. I told her she should, since I'm the Torch and I've probably saved her life a hundred times and all, but she wouldn't hear it," he pouted. "I was hoping you could bump me up the wait list a bit, yeah? Maybe bring me and my babes in sometime soon?"

"Since we're such good friends and all," I said dryly.

"Exactly, man! I knew you'd understand."

"I'm not getting you in, Storm. MJ's probably keeping you at the bottom of the list because she's afraid you'll scare off all her female clients-"

"No way, dude. Besides, I hear your daughter works there," he winked. "You feel like setting me up on a date with her? She's hot stuff."

"Okay, Johnny, that's enough," Reed glared at him. "What's up, Tony?"

I explained about Thanos, and his expression became more and more grave as my explanation drew on. Finally, he sighed and put his hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eye. "Tony, we'd love to help. We really, really would. But we're actually . . . we're going on an intergalactic educational trip with the family. Just me, the kids, Sue, Ben and Johnny. We'll be gone for about a year."

"A whole year?!"

"The Fantastic Four have been looking out for the world for a long, long time, Tony. And while having you individual heroes running around was fine . . . now that you've all joined up to make the Avengers, we feel like we can take a bit of vacation time."

"So we're your substitutes," I raised an eyebrow, not liking it.

"I have two kids that I barely know and an estranged wife, Tony, and it's because of the superhero-ing. Please, I'm not asking for you to understand, I'm just asking for you to hold your own without us."

Johnny was in the corner of the room, shooting spitballs at me and Reed. Whenever one got close to my friend, he would elastic himself out of the way. "Try calling the Guardians of the Galaxy," Johnny interrupted his game. "Reed's done so much work in space that he's got a direct line to them. They're like the Avengers, just . . . in space."

"Yeah, I know who they are," I snapped.

In one of Reed's many science rooms, he showed me how to contact them on this funny television-looking thing. "Their leader, Star-Lord, should pick up. He's a human named Peter Quill, and you're so damn famous, Stark, I'm sure he'll have heard of you."

It wasn't this mysterious Quill that picked up the phone-screen, though. Instead, I managed to contact a talking tree. The picture may have been fuzzy and there was a lot of static, but it was definitely a tree.

"I am Groot," it boomed, glaring at me.

"Don't worry, he's one of the Guardians," Johnny snickered, watching my confusion.

"I am Groot."

"Okay, Groot . . . can we talk to Stark-Lord?" Reed asked.

"I am Groot."

"That's great, buddy, but I'm looking for your leader chief guy," I snapped.

"I am Groot."

"We have news about Thanos," Reed cut in. "He's a Guardians enemy, am I right?"

At this, the tree finally showed some sort of recognition. "I am Groot," he announced one more time, before passing the screen on to someone else.

This guy wasn't much better. "What the 'ell do you fleshies want?" We were one step up from a talking tree – now we spoke to a talking raccoon. With guns. Lots and lots of guns.

"Listen, I'm Tony Stark, I'm looking for-"

"Yeah, and I'm Rocket Raccoon, and you're wasting my time."

I shoved the screen at Reed. "I give up, these – these – these Guardians are way too confusing."

"Tony, they can help," Reed pleaded.

"Like 'ell we can! You can deal with your own damn problems, we've got our own, tryin' ta keep the whole freaking universe safe. Am I right, Groot?" Rocket spat.

"I am Groot."

"Mister Stark," there was a tinny sound coming from my Iron Man helmet. "Mister Stark." Suddenly, all of Reed Richards' communications systems were overrun by JARVIS's voice. At least we didn't have to listen to Rocket cussing us out anymore . . . "Mister Stark, there's been a breach at Avengers Tower."

"What?" I stomped over to the living room, grabbing my helmet and putting it on. The communications in the Baxter Building went back to normal.

"There's been a major security breach, sir. The – zzzzt – the building's been – zzzzt – compromised – zzzzt – Avengers Assemble – zzzzzzt-"

"JARVIS, are we under attack?" I shouted, panicking.

"Affirmiyes."

"What?!"

"Zzzzt."

"Shit. JARVIS, switch to backup sever." There was a clicking sound as the AI went to our backup satellite and computer system, which was located in my house in Miami.

"Tony? Is everything all right?" Reed asked, looking worried. Johnny went flame on.

"Backup servers are on again, sir. Hacking into the computers, satellites and cameras that aren't connected to the compromised JARVIS AI in New York City. It seems the entire server has been destroyed. Communications in New York are down," the new JARVIS announced.

"What's going on?" I asked, pulling up satellite images of Avengers Tower. My eyes widened.

"The Avengers are under attack, sir. No sight of Thanos – but it appears to be the Enchantress."

"Have you called the-"

"Yes. Steven has already given the order. Avengers Assemble!"

* * *

**Author's Note: Hee. Hee hee hee. Heeheheheh. Heheheh. **

**I am _so_ sorry this took forever to upload. I kind of, sort of, maybe, briefly lost inspiration. Also, I had the worst writer's block. I could not, for the life of me, figure out what to write for this damn chapter. It's a filler chapter, since the next three chapters are the big battle/climax, and I just couldn't get the creatice juices working.**

**Anyway, I'm back now, and I'm looking to stay! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and an extra thanks to those of you that reviewed recently to remind me to update: _AVIDREADER, Enchanted Authoress, Guest, RockaRosalie, CraziecatZ, Lovergirl24, brandibuckeye, InLoveWithTheRogue, erica . phoenix 16, roxxirox, Awareness, Shadow Realm Triforce _and_ CeffylGwyn_ :) Welcome to the new reviewers, and I hope to hear from you all again! :)**

**Next time on Silver Flames: Struggle with the Enchantress Part 1, wherein the author (that's me) is inspired by SNL and we get to see Hulk destroy lots of important stuff! Seriously, what could go wrong? Oh - and Luke steals Pep's Iron Man hand!**

**I hope to hear from you all in the review section - please tell me what you thought :D Thank you so, so much for everyone who is reading, and sorry this update took so long! Thanks again for sticking by me - and READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	21. Showers of Arrows

Clint Barton's POV

_Now when the two armies met, many and fierce were the combats waged between them, and blows were given and received, and swords flashed and showers of arrows descended on all sides. _

_- Ferdowsi_

"So, what, do you put it in a needle? And stick it in my arm, or something?"

Bruce looked at Sam, exasperated. "Yes, for the millionth time, your stabilizing serum is just like a normal shot."

She frowned. "Well, I - I don't want Luke in here."

"What? Why the hell not?!" her little brother asked. He was watching Hank Pym, playing around with his Pym Particles.

"Because I don't know if it's going to backfire and turn me into Beast or something," she snapped.

"Isn't there any testing you can do before giving it to her?" Steve asked. "You don't know what it might do. Tony's not even a geneticist, he builds technology . . ."

I sat on top of a cupboard in Bruce's lab, watching the doctor, Sam, Steve and Luke argue over Sam's serum while Hank just tried to do his work. Sighing, I jumped down from my perch. "C'mon, Luke, I'll teach you how to use a bow and arrow. Let's let the adults bicker by themselves."

"I don't even know who you are," Sam's brother was defensive.

"I'm Hawkeye."

"Oh," recognition dawned on his face.

"Real name's Clint Barton, but you can call me Clint. I like to consider myself Sam's best friend," I head-locked the young blonde woman, and she tried unsuccessfully to push me off. "She's cute, don't you think?"

Bruce pulled me off, shoving me out the door. "Go up into the practice lounge, Clint. Try and do something useful with your time, now that you're not on a S.H.I.E.L.D mission."

"Yeah, yeah," I flicked my hand. "It just means I can annoy you all more often. Luke – come."

"I'm not a dog," he glowered, but followed me anyway.

"So, how cool is it to be allowed to actually _meet _the avengers, and see inside their tower?" I made small talk as we headed towards the training room.

"Well, actually," he took a deep breath, "it's freaking awesome. All my friends will be so jealous I met you guys. It's like meeting celebrities, only cooler. And you guys actually spend time with me," he grinned.

I shrugged noncommittally. "Well, since the Avengers first formed, there have been a lot of individual costumed heroes popping up all over the place. We're not really one of a kind anymore."

"Chicago's got a strict no-hero policy, though," he grumbled, naming his and Sam's home city. "And there's only one Cap and Iron Man, right? They're more than just heroes now. They're legends. Icons. Symbols that people look up to. Their legacy is gonna live on, even when they die." We reached the practice room and I grabbed my bow and quiver, which were hanging on a rack on the wall. "You can meet all the B-list heroes you want, but there's something different about meeting a founding Avenger. Like yourself, Hawkeye."

"Dude, just call me Clint," I hit a button on the wall that brought up targets at the far end of the room.

"No way, man, I'm calling you Hawkeye. It's so cool that I know one of the founding Avengers," he bounced on the balls of his feet. "You're a big deal, man. Any kid's dream to meet."

"What, you think I should do a meet and greet at the mall?" I joked, and he laughed. There was a lull in the conversation, before I held out my weapon. "Hey, d'you wanna try?"

His eyes widened in astonishment. "Really?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Just make sure you use one of the normal arrows. Don't want a bola arrow being wasted and wrapping around the targets; besides, those are harder to shoot-"

There was an explosion somewhere in the building that shook the walls and floor. I dropped to the ground, hands over my hand, but nothing came our way and the ceiling didn't collapse. The shaking stopped, and then there was another boom, this time closer.

"Come on!" I cried. Luke had dropped to the floor beside me, and I now grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt fabric, dragging him up with me. We sprinted towards the door and let ourselves out, running down the hallway.

Luke and I had just made it out into the living room when the floor tilted sideways. No joke - the whole thing tilted on its side like some sort of amusement park ride. Not 90 degrees on its side, but still pretty freaking tilted. Furniture and random objects came flying at us as gravity pulled us down; we slid down and across the floor towards the windows overlooking the balcony. A couch crashed into the window, breaking it open. Shit. If we went through that, we were dead.

I scrambled around, unable to get a good foothold or grip on anything. Luke slid down the floor beside me, screaming. Desperately, he fought off the coffee table, which was sliding with him. Twisting so that I could reach my back, I fingered my arrows until I found just the one I was looking for. Cable arrow, with a claw arrowhead.

It took the same amount of time to notch the arrow, pull back, aim, and fire it as it took Luke to take a deep breath, preparing for his next shriek. The arrow flew up and lodged itself deeply in the wall that was now above us, setting out spikes to keep itself in place, like a claw. The cord attaching me to the arrow was connected to my bow. As long as I held on to the bow, I'd be okay.

The cord pulled taught with a snap and I jolted harshly, my arm muscles screaming as I lost my bearings for a second. It didn't take long for me to clue in to Luke's screaming again, though. He was sliding towards me, but the blonde teenager was just out of reach.

Gritting my teeth, I planted my feet against the floor and pushed off at just the right moment, launching out to grab him by the shirt again, like a mother cat holds her kitten by the scruff of its neck. I caught him, thank God, with only one hand – the other still held on to the bow.

Luke screamed as we swung back, slowing to a stop. All the furniture in Stark's living room was now either falling to the street below, or still sliding out the windows. "Incoming!" Luke cried, pointing up at the mini-fridge, which was sliding right for us. I coiled, preparing to jump right over it. Luke did the same, still holding onto my hand like his life depended on it. And, well, it did.

We managed to avoid the mini-fridge, but my muscles were screaming with pain. The floor wasn't horizontal enough to support any of our weight, so I had to carry both of us. One arm had Luke clinging to it in a death grip, and the other was clutching my bow. That meant the cord and the claw were support my weight _and_ Luke's. I was, too – I was the glue that kept all this things together. And _God_ it hurt like a bitch.

"Help!" Luke was screaming now. At least he wasn't just shouting aimlessly anymore. "Somebody! Sam! Cap! Please, someone help!"

My eyes scanned around us, looking for a possible escape route. If I had been alone, I would have been able to climb the cord and make my way back to the hallway, where at least I didn't risk falling out the window. It didn't help that I had to watch out for Sam's little brother. Damn, how did I get myself into this?

There was another explosion, somewhere close this time. It shook the building, and I felt my grip slipping. Luke gasped as we dropped a bit lower. My hand, which had become sweaty, could barely hold on to either the bow or the teenager.

"Nyaah-AGGH!" something flew into the floor beside us, crashing through it. The hardwood splintered, debris falling around me and Luke. There was a burst of green light from within the hole, and another cry.

My hand slipped again, and Luke continued to twist about below me, his feet dangling.

"Eey-YAH!" the green light in the hole imploded, and it went dark. Finally, Ms. Marvel came crawling out, already looking battered.

She saw me and grinned. "Hiya, Clintie. How's it hanging?"

I glared. "That is not funny, Carol."

She flew down and picked Luke up in one arm, holding him close to her chest. He locked his arms around her neck in a grip that I bet was tighter than the Hulk's. He wrapped his legs around her waist, too, holding on to her like a monkey as he buried his face in her neck. Poor kid was terrified.

Carol wrapped her other arm around my waist as I disengaged the bow from the arrow; swinging the bow over my shoulder, she flew me and Luke up out of the Tower. We passed the hole that was still glowing faint green light, but there was no body or attacker in there.

"What's going on, Carol?" I asked as she hovered above Avengers Tower. The top half of the building was lying at a 50 degree angle from the ground, its weight supported by the skyscraper that it had crashed in to. The entire left side of the building had been blown away, but it didn't yet seem like the rest of Manhattan was a target for whoever our attacker was.

"Enchantress attacked with an army of, well, some sort of Asgardian army," she explained, swooping down through the sky. "You hit 'em hard enough and they explode – I think they're made up of her fancy green magic."

Luke lifted his head to look up at the Tower. "My sister's in there. Sam's in there! Go back up and find her!" he started pounding Carol's back.

"Listen, you're Luke Silverman, right?" Carol's voice was soothing. "I'm Ms. Marvel. You're safe now, okay, but you should probably get away from the Tower. I believe protocol is to get underground, to the subway."

I nodded. "Avengers Tower will undoubtedly have been shut down by now. Tony put in sliding steel walls to protect the workers within from any possible invasion. Once they're sealed up, you can't get in or out."

"But what about Sam? And – and Cap?"

"They'll be okay," I tried, and Carol glared at me. "What?"

"Luke, we can't promise you anything," she landed on the ground and set him on his feet, "but they can take care of themselves."

"Are you kidding? Look at the building! It's falling apart! Screw the steel walls; the top half of the building is completely open to attacks."

Carol peeled herself away from the teen, gesturing to the crowd of fleeing civilians. "Get underground. We'll take care of this." A few more objects fell out of the sky, raining down from the floors above.

"But my sister-"

Carol scooped an arm around my waist again and took off without looking back. "I'm going to get people out of the building, Clint, but I need you somewhere high. You've gotta pick off the attackers as they come by-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But Luke's got a point. We really ought to check for the other Avengers."

"What about the civilians?!"

"The more Avengers, the more civilians we'll save. Carol, you may not be an Avenger, but I am. They're family. I've got to find them."

"Whatever you say, Barton."

Suddenly, something zipped past us. It was one of the entities Ms. Marvel had mentioned. The creature, which seemed solid enough, was completely green. It wore Viking battle armor and had long blonde plaits, along with a broadsword. The creature looked like a skeleton with its decomposing flesh still stretched over it, and it sat atop a pegasus.

Carol threw up a hand and shot it with a photon blast. The wraith exploded in a flash of green smoke. "Well, this battle won't be a problem for you, huh?" I joked. "Meanwhile, I'm over here watching while my concussions get concussions."

"Fine, you want to try? Go ahead," she rolled her eyes as I notched my bow with a regular old purple arrow. I sent it flying right between the eyes of another wraith, and she wreathed for a moment before she disappeared, along with her flying horse.

Ms. Marvel flew us into the Tower, and I directed her through the destroyed halls to the lab, where I had last seen four of my allies. Once we were inside she was able to put me down on my feet, and I ran along beside her on the wall.

An army of wraiths, these ones on foot, came at us out of nowhere. I had notched and shot an explosive arrow before Carol had time to react, blowing the passageway clear. In the lab, chemicals were spilled everywhere and were burning holes through tables. Sparks flew, and Tony's billion-dollar technology was completely destroyed.

"Hello? Anyone?" I called out timidly. "Hank? Steve?"

There was a laugh from one side of the room, and finally I got my first sighting of our opponent: the mighty Enchantress. Her bright green eyes pierced through me as I fumbled for a net arrow. I wasn't quick enough.

"Duck!" came a deep voice, and I dropped to the floor – wall? – just in time as Cap's red, white and blue shield went whizzing over my head. It knocked into the Enchantress's chest and sent her back into the wall with an "Oof." Ms. Marvel flew after her, breaking her through said wall.

"Clint, you alright?" Cap asked, catching his shield out of mid-air and rushing over to me. I shook my head, then nodded.

"I totally had her."

"Sure you did, Hawkeye," he laughed.

"Where is everyone?"

He frowned. "I don't know. We were separated, and then I went to grab my shield . . ." Cap still wore his civvies, but they were ripped and in tatters. Beneath the cloth was his Captain America suit, still in perfect condition. "Tony was over at the Fantastic Four's, and Banner Hulked out. That's all I know."

"You think Sam and Hank are in here?" I got to my feet, looking around at the debris.

"That's why I came back," his brow was furrowed as he stuck his helmet-mask on his head.

"Hang on a moment," I notched an explosive arrow and sent it flying at one of Tony's tables that was now under a ton of crap. It removed said crap in an explosion, and below it we found a bruised and battered Hank Pym.

He coughed, looking up at us. "You coulda killed me with that explosion."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Shaddup."

"Is Sam here?" Cap asked, digging around.

"I don't think so. When the first explosion happened," Hank wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve, "and you ran out of the room, Steve, she followed you."

"Damn," his eyes darkened.

Hank dug around in a cupboard that was lying on its side, pulling out his Ant-Man gear. "Avengers assemble, right, guys?"

"Yeah. Seems like Enchantress has an army of wraiths," I said, notching three of my arrows and preparing for an attack. "It might be just like Tony said. She's testing us."

"All communications are down," Cap announced. "Even JARVIS."

"Jarvis!" I exclaimed. "And Pepper!"

"It's okay, I was with them when the attack started," Carol suddenly flew back in, her side bleeding badly. "I got them down to the street."

"Enchantress?" Cap asked.

"Got away," Ms. Marvel huffed. Her red sash fluttered.

Ant-Man, now ready for action, stepped up. "Can you fly me to the ground? I can help down there."

"Yeah, got it," Carol scooped him up and flew him off without a second of hesitation. "I'm starting to feel like I should change my name to Ms. Avengersbus."

Right as she left, Cap and I were attacked by a small battalion of wraiths. My three arrows killed the first trio and went right through them, catching the next three in the necks and ending them too. My next arrow, a net arrow, tied a bunch of them up together, all writhing and squealing.

Captain America quickly proved to me why he was a living legend, taking out the rest of them. He barreled into the creatures shield-first, knocking them over as he kicked and punched. A left hook here, an upper jab there, and the edge of his shield to a neck made short work of them. He even head-butted one into smoke.

"I'm going to the roof to get an aerial view of what's going down," I said. "Is there a battle plan?"

Cap shook his head. "We were too busy talking about Thanos and planning an attack on Amora to actually figure out what to do if _she _attacked. We're dead in the air. I don't know where half the team even _is_."

"This stinks," I huffed.

"You're telling me."

I wound my way through the diagonal hallways, eventually reaching the staircase. It was basically level to the ground now, so I had no trouble climbing up the stairs towards the top. I passed through the levels on which our bedrooms were on as the lights in the building flickered and died.

"Shit," I muttered, climbing the rest of the way in darkness. Pushing the door to the roof outwards, the sudden light was blinding. "Ahhh!" I cried, almost falling out of the door – the roof wasn't at an angle as friendly as the stairs, and it pointed straight down.

"Okay, Clint, okay, no problem," I swung my quiver over my shoulder and rifled through the pocket at the bottom, pulling out two arrowheads: the Suction Cup arrowhead (shut up, I couldn't think of a better name) and the Rocket arrowhead. The first one was strong enough to adhere to any smooth surfaces and hold my weight, and the latter was used to boost range.

"Now . . . cable arrow," I found the properly-labelled arrow, which had Sam's writing on it. Attaching the two arrowheads, I took a breath, notching the arrow and aiming across the wide space spanning between Avengers Tower and the next building over. I just had to swing through the air to that building, and I'd have the perfect vantage point to attack and watch what was going on. Okay, deep breath. Pull back – the wire tenses. Back muscles tighten and lock. Slow my breathing . . . relax my hand . . . eyes on the target . . .

"RAAAAAGGGHHHHHH! SMASHHHH!"

A huge green flying monster came out of nowhere, landing feet away from where I was perched. "No no no no no no no nononono-" I watched the Hulk, my eyes filled with terror as he brought his two fists down, both the size of school buses, on five wraiths that he must have followed here. They screamed, but not nearly as loud as I must have when I was thrown from the tower by the force of the impact he made.

Do you have any idea how many floors there are in Avengers Tower? 93. That's right – 93 stories. I was falling ninety-three stories, right from the top. I guess I didn't think of what would happen if I fell from the roof without setting up my cable. You cowboy around with the Avengers, with guys that got, what, armor, magic, super-powers. Super-strength. Shrink dust, grow-rays, more magic. _Healing factors_. I got none o' that. And now – falling off Stark Tower – well, it looked bad. But I promise you it felt worse.

I twisted through the air, struggling with my bow and trying to steady myself enough to shoot it. I lined up a shot towards Avengers Tower, and let loose. My aim was spot-on, as always, and I let out a breath of relief as it suctioned-cupped to the window of the thirtieth floor or something. Yeah, it had taken me a while to get organized.

Then I was caught by momentum and I swung, crashing into the wall of the building.

Yeah, remember when I said that the Avengers have super-strength? And I don't? Yeah. When I crashed into the building I didn't break through the grass. Instead, there was some sort of KRACK sound that came from my bones, the arrow broke as it was caught between me and the building, and I dropped my bow. Then I was falling through the air again.

"Shitshitshitshitshit! Ms. Marvel! Iron Man!" I screamed. "Who else flies? Wasp!" I was down to ten floors from the ground now. "Hulk!"

I reached out and caught my bow, which was falling near me, thank god. I grabbed the first arrow my fingers rested on and shot it towards the building again, praying it could break my fall somehow.

It was a flare arrow. Well, screw me.

I landed shoulder-blades-first on a car, banging my head up pretty badly with whiplash. As I said, my concussions were going to get concussions. The car roof was crushed under my weight, and the last thing I remember was watching the Hulk rip some more wraiths to pieces before I blacked out.

* * *

It was snowing. Gently. It was snowing on my face very gently, and it was cold, and it felt good. I focused on the snow. It felt good.

"Aww, man." I groaned. "Did I miss Christmas again?"

I opened my eyes and saw that the sky was a _lot _darker than it had been before. Everything was burning and exploding – Avengers Tower wasn't the only thing under attack anymore. Wait, we were still under attack? I hadn't slept through the whole thing?

Damn.

"Um. Hawkeye? Hello? Are you dead?"

"Yes," I mumbled.

"Um. Oh. Okay."

I couldn't move my head, so I struggled to look at my visitor out of the corner of my eye. "Whaddya want?"

"It's . . . it's Luke Silverman." Oh, right. My vision focused now on the blonde teenager. "Can I get you anything? Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?"

". . . No?"

"Right answer," I groaned.

"I, uh, I saw you fall from Avengers Tower," he scratched his nose. "Long fall. I think you would've died if you hadn't crashed into the wall a few stories up. It broke your fall. Not that I know too much about physics. But that's what I think. It happened, like, an hour or two ago."

"You're giving me a headache."

"Sorry."

"Iss okay."

". . . Hawkeye?"

"What?" I shut my eyes again, concentrating once more on the snow on my face.

"Did you find my sister?"

"Geez, man, I dunno."

"Oh. Sorry."

"What's – what's going on? Did we lose the battle?"

"Huh? Oh, no. I think it's still going on," he scrunched up his nose. "I dunno. It's kinda moved east. I think. Well, it's moved that way," he pointed somewhere, but my eyes were closed so I didn't see.

"Y'know," I coughed, "there's a neighbourhood in Manhattan named Clinton. My name's Clinton."

"Uh . . . alright."

I took a deep breath through my nose. "This is kinda nice, y'know? Like, the eye of the storm. No one pays much attention to us normal kids. We're right in the epicentre of the battle, but no one's hitting us."

"That's not entirely true, Hawkeye," there was exhaustion in Luke's voice. "There've been a lot of evil green things that tried to attack you when you were, uh, dead, but I fought them off."

I grunted. "How?"

"Pepper gave this to me when I ran out of our hidey-hole to make sure you were okay . . ."

He held up his hand, and I had to open my eyes to look at it. It was an Iron Man hand, but painted white rather than red. "She said Tony was making her try it out when the attack started."

"You've been using that?!"

"Yeah. It's easy, just hard to aim." In demonstration, he blasted the steel doors that were keeping Avengers Tower locked down. "See, I actually meant to aim a little bit to the left."

Okay, Clint. Get up. You gotta get up and go help the other Avengers. Get Sam's little brother off the street. You're every bit as good as those superhumans. Get up.

"What?" Luke asked.

"Huh? Nothing."

"You were whispering something."

"Oops. Did I say that out loud? Oops. Sorry. It was a . . . pep talk."

"Alright," he nodded.

I groaned, sitting up. Damn it, everything hurt, like, excruciatingly bad. I definitely had a few broken bones, maybe a shattered something-or-other. A ruptured organ wouldn't have been out of the picture, either. But I could breathe, I could walk, and my arms still worked. That was good enough for me.

I huffed, getting off the car. Luke helped me down, and I leaned heavily on him. There was a screech over to the west, and some sort of green Asgardian beast came flying at us. "Shit, I thought there were only those wraith things?"

"No, they've been getting weirder the longer I've been out here. Hang on, I got this." He raised his Iron Man hand, and it took three repulsor blasts to finally get rid of the charging beast.

"Where are – where are Pepper and Jarvis?" I wheezed.

"Um, when I left them they were in that clothing store over there," he pointed at a boutique, "but they've since gone underground. I think. Ms. Marvel came down and ordered everybody around an hour ago. Civilians have been gone for a while."

"So," I looked over at him, "why are you still out here?"

"I was protecting you," he said a bit shyly. "You said you were Sam's best friend."

"That I did," I chewed my lip, "but I find it hard to believe they just let you go." I found my bow, lying on the ground near the car and somehow not broken. Sighing, I grabbed an arrow from my quiver and notched it, not even bothering to see what kind of arrow it was.

"Hmm, well, I kind of lied a lot, and hid under the car you smashed."

"And no one noticed?"

"It was around the time that the Enchantress came rushing down the street, so everyone was preoccupied."

"Okay. Well," another creature, this one with six legs and a slimy tongue, slithered towards us, "I'm awake now." I shot my arrow, muscles screaming in protest. Still, my aim was true, and I pierced the creature right between the eyes. Before, y'know, the arrow exploded into smoke.

"Damn. Smoke arrow. You wanna get that thing?" I asked, and Luke randomly shot off the Iron Man hand until there was a puff of green smoke rising above my grey smoke.

"The nice thing is, there's no bodies to clean up," Luke shrugged.

"There are," I interrupted. "There are no bodies to clean up."

"Shut up," he chuckled.

When the smoke cleared, our eyes widened. A small army of wraiths now stood in the monster's place, hissing and snapping at us. "Okay, Hawkeye, you said you're awake now," Luke sounded nervous. "Do your thing."

"Uh," I pursed my lips. "I'm, um, I'm out of arrows."

"What!?" Luke freaked out, and the repulsor beam shot off wildly.

"I'm out of arrows. You know, maybe I'll just wait in the car-" I tried to get open the door of the car I had squashed.

"How many did you bring?" he concentrated on the wraiths, shooting them down.

"Like, all of them."

"How many's that?"

"Like, eleven."

"You have eleven arrows?!"

"The rest are at home."

He smacked his other hand to his forehead. "Why didn't you just pick up the used ones after killing stuff?"

"Oh, yuck, that's unsanitary. And it's hard to pick up an exploding arrow."

"God _damn _it."

"Watch your mouth."

"You said shit earlier-"

"What would Sam say if I told her you had a potty mouth?"

"Um, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't care, she uses worse language than the entire city of Chicago-"

We went silent as a red, white and blue shield went flying over our heads, knocking into the rest of the wraiths. "Get down!" came Captain America's voice, as something exploded above our heads. He leapt off a parked truck, catching his shield in mid-air and rolling once he hit the ground. Behind him was the Enchantress in all her glory, skin and hair glowing. It looked like she had just come from the beauty salon, not the battlefield.

She conjured up a new army of creatures out of thin air, her green magic glowing in the fading light of day. They swarmed the street, distracting Steve as she simultaneously shot a burst of green light at him. Cap barely managed to get his shield up in time to block it, the magic energy bouncing off and exploding a car in the street.

Cap ran at her shield-first, slamming into her and pinning her down on the ground. "Stand down, Enchantress. This battle can only end one way, and it's not going to be with you as victor."

"My power is rivalled only by Thor's. You have nothing on me!" she blasted him back, and he was pulled away by wraiths.

"Your magic will drain out sometime," he struggled. "I've fought tyrants like you, Amora, and all of you have underestimated one thing – the will of the people you oppose. You can knock us down, but you can't knock down the things we stand for; the symbols we represent-"

"Eat repulsor beam, bitch!" Luke cried, dodging out from behind the car. He shot off the Iron Man hand at her – and missed.

"Get back!" I bared my teeth and lunged for him, right as she shot a beam of energy towards the teenager. Colliding with Luke, I knocked him to the ground just in time for the beam to go over our heads, probably shaving off a few of my hairs.

"She's gonna kill Cap!" he kicked at me.

"She's gonna kill _you_!"

"At least I'm _trying _to help, Mr. Out-of-arrows."

I rolled my eyes, but the remark still stung. Getting up, I ran towards the Enchantress from behind, smacking her over the head with my bow.

She stumbled forward, but didn't pass out. "Foolish mortal _scum-_" her eyes glowed green, and she raised her hands at me, grabbing me around the throat and picking me up off the ground-

"Oh no, you don't!" someone shouted loudly; angrily. I was swept out of the Enchantress's hands by none other than Ms. Marvel, flying above everything. She twisted and shot the Enchantress with a photon blast, knocking her off her perch on top of a car. Right at that time, Cap broke free of his captors and knocked them all into oblivion, using his super-soldier enhancements to his advantage.

"Luke – catch!" he threw the shield towards the teenager, and he caught it in surprise before realizing why it had been given to him – he was surrounded by more Asgardian entities. Now, with Captain America's shield and Iron Man's hand, he smiled in confidence. Carol put me down nearby so I could help, and went off to find the Enchantress and Cap.

The sorceress hit Ms. Marvel with all the energy she had, finally looking like she was sweating, but Ms. Marvel just absorbed it and threw it back at her with ten times the power. Enchantress flipped over herself, flying backwards and crashing into a building. There was a sudden BOOM, and the Hulk appeared again, glaring her down.

"Puny god," he growled, picking her up and smacking her into the side of a building like a ragdoll. If I recalled, he had done the same with Loki all those years ago. "Don't pick on Hulk's friends."

"Arghhh!" she cried, unable to focus her magic enough to pick him apart. Instead, she rallied the beasts and wraiths around Luke to come and crawl over the Hulk; although they didn't harm him, he was still distracted enough that she slid out of his grasp and flew away in an aura of green, spitting on his head.

"HULK SMASK GODDESS!" he roared, bounding after her and using his huge legs to leap long distances. Ms. Marvel, too, flew off in hot pursuit, twisting through the air as her red sash fluttered.

Captain America hobbled over to us, holding his thigh, which was bleeding profusely. His shoulder, too, had a large gash taken out of it, and his nose trickled blood. "Hawkeye, the main armada's over on the bridge," he jabbed his thumb behind him. "You coming?"

"I . . ." I glanced backwards, at my empty quiver. "You know what, yeah. It's high time I put S.H.I.E.L.D's combat training to good use."

"Luke?" Cap looked down at the teen.

"Here," he said meekly, passing him the shield. "Thanks."

"Not a problem, soldier," Captain America saluted him. "You really ought to get underground now. But maybe . . . keep the Iron Man hand," he winked.

"Yes, sir, Captain," he grinned from ear to ear. "Thank you so much."

I ruffled his hair. "Y'know, I like this kid." Luke laughed nervously.

The sound of Hulk ripping something apart off to the east startled all of us. "It's not pretty, Hawkeye," Cap sighed. "Steel yourself."

"Thanks for the heads up," I nodded, and with one more affectionate punch to Luke's shoulder, we ran off towards the darkening sky, through the snow.

* * *

**Author's Note: Look, Ma! I updated faster!**

**Heh heh, yeah, anyway. There you have it, part 1 of the big battle. I've recently really fallen in love with Clint, mainly because he's so human, so I tried to play that up a bit in this chapter. He's a normal guy, trying to fit in with all these big shots. I love it. And yes, I know he wouldn't have been able to survive a fall that big if this was real life :P**

**Anyway, thank you to the wonderful reviewers: _InLoveWithTheRogue, brandibuckeye, CeffylGwyn, Shadow Realm Triforce _and_ erica . phoenix 16_! Thank you all so, so much for reviewing. And to everyone else, I know I was away for a while, but I'm still hoping to hear from you :3 I missed out on a lot of the regular reviewers, and I hope to hear from you guys sometime soon!**

**Next up on Silver Flames: we get to find out what has happened to four missing Avengers (two of whom I haven't even mentioned in the past two chapters), Chernobyl's radiation makes a reappearance, and the Winter Soldier shows up! Or . . . does he?**

**Until next time, and thank you all so much for reading! Please drop me a line in a review and tell me what you thought! READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	22. Response to Reality

Samantha Silverman's POV

_It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane._

_- Philip K. Dick_

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I'D GIVE TO BE DOING CALCULUS RIGHT NOW?!"

I swiftly balled my left hand into a fist, cupped the fist in my other hand and, using my right to add momentum, jabbed my left elbow in the Enchantress's injured side. Without time for a surprised yelp, an iron-hard fist followed.

She grunted and raised her funny-looking gun. I grabbed the barrel, yanked, and then shoved it back in her face, catching her nose and making it bleed. Ducking to the side, I rammed my knee in her groin and then, using the same leg, twisted my torso so that my foot was parallel to the ground. I flexed and released my leg, my foot contacting the Enchantress's knee squarely. There was a faint pop as the knee bent the wrong way, twisting but not breaking.

The Enchantress growled and, using her injured leg, kicked my own right knee. I hissed in pain, but I had been through worse, so I punched her in the face. She was thrown to the ground by a quick shove to the chest.

"Eheheh," the Enchantress coughed, aiming the alien gun for my face - and firing, hitting right between my eyes.

Let me back up a bit.

When Avengers Tower first started exploding and our communications system was taken away right off the bat, Steve ran out to see what was going on.

"Stevie, wait-" I lunged off the table I was sitting on, aiming to go after him. Doctor Banner pushed me back down.

"Sam, you've gotta try your serum."

There was another explosion, and the building shook. "Fuck, Banner, now's not the time," I fought him off weakly.

"Now is the best time," he tried to reason with me, clutching my arms tightly. "What if you're needed out there? We're going to need you to be stable."

I eyed the needle with the serum wearily. "But-"

"No buts," his voice was calm. Hank watched us from the other side of the lab.

"I don't like needles," I whined.

"Tony made some adjustments to the serum, he said it'll help with some sort of . . . mental issue you have?" he asked delicately.

My jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

Just then, the floor tilted at a dangerously steep angle and everything, us included, began to slide down the floor to the side of the room. "Fine, Bruce, inject the serum! Do it! Do it do it do it!"

Bruce took one horrified look at me, and then turned into the Hulk.

I swore, diving out of the way of a flying computer. "Just kidding!" I screamed, lunging for the doorway. "Steve, wait up!"

The Hulk roared, ripping Banner's computers out of the walls and crushing poor Hank in an onslaught of debris. I tumbled down the hallway outside, covering my head with my arms to shield myself; the Hulk ripped through the wall, coming right for me.

"Ahh! I'm sorry!" I cried, throwing up a hand and lighting Hulk's hair on fire. This, of course, only made him angrier, and so I raised my other hand so I could use both to hold him back with a wall of wind. I gritted my teeth, using every bit of energy that I had in order to keep him back.

"YEAAHHHHH!" Thor came flying through the opposite wall, hammer aimed straight for Hulk's head. It connected, and the two of them went flying through a few more walls, out of my sight. Phew, at least I was out of that mess. Thank God (literally). Hulk was a great teammate . . . when he could control himself.

"I need a catchphrase," I mumbled to myself, digging around in the messenger bag that was slung over my shoulder for my mask. "The Marvelous Masquerade. Nah, too long. Mighty Masquerade. Wait, there's already the Mighty Thor," I pouted.

"Talking to yourself already?" a smooth voice drifted over to me. I looked up to see the Enchantress, looking as perfect as ever; she floated above me in a light green glow.

"You're the one beating up poor Avengers Tower?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't say beating up. More like . . . annihilating."

"Ouch. That's gonna hurt Tony's bank account," I winced.

Enchantress tilted her head at me as the building stopped shifting and groaning. "Aren't you going to . . . you know . . . rip open your shirt to reveal your costume underneath? Isn't that what Midgardians heroes do?"

"Um, I think that's only Cap and Spider-Man. And no, not unless you want to see my bra . . ."

"Does it have purple masks on it?"

I glared at her and deadpanned, "I assure you that it does not."

I found my footing, stood, and sent a blast of wind at her, knocking the Enchantress out of the air. She flipped over backwards, smacking into the ceiling; I quickly stuck my mask on my face.

"And BOOM goes the dynamite!" I cried, lighting her costume on fire. She shot a beam of energy at me, and I ducked and rolled to get out of the way (feeling a bit like a spy, I admit). I crawled through a doorway into a nearby room and pulled my costume out of my messenger bag, flinging the bag away.

I had barely managed to get the pants, boots and belt on when Enchantress came flying up through the floor. Damn, super hero costumes were a hassle. How come I was the only one with a problem like this? So damn impractical. The Enchantress grabbed a handful of my hair and picked me up from where I was seated, holding me face-to-face. I fumbled with my utility belt, out of her sight.

"When I take down the Avengers one by one," she growled, "I'll-"

"Pepper spray!" I cried as my hand wrapped around the small arsenal can on my belt and I brought it up to spray it in her eyes.

She shrieked, backing away immediately. "My eyes are burning! You witch! What did you do?!"

I scrambled out of the room, not even bothering to reply. As I ran along the walls of the building and changed into my top at the same time, I could hear her cursing from the room.

The Hulk and Thor came crashing upon my path, and this time they weren't fighting each other. "For Midgard!" Thor bellowed, Hulk yelling alongside him. "Go forth, my green friend, and help save the people of this fair city!"

"Thor!" I called for his attention, trying to balance myself on the still-shifting building. "It's the Enchantress! She's attacked!"

"I know, fair warrior," he said. "And we shall take her and her army out together!"

"Army?!" I squinted, not sure I'd heard right.

"Yes, they have laid siege upon Avengers Tower. The noble Hulk and I were heading down to the streets to take the fight to them!"

"Mind if I tag along?" I asked, ignoring the painting that spontaneously combusted behind me. Damn that serum.

"Come along, sister," Thor held out his arms to me. I hugged the big oaf and he swung Mjolnir around, finally taking off and using the momentum of the hammer to propel us through the air and down towards the ground.

When we landed, I'll be the first to admit I felt a bit queasy - but we had no time. Thor was right, Amora had brought an army. Well, she had conjured up an army. Thousands of green specters, beasts and wraiths stood in the streets surrounding Avengers Tower. Terrified civilians cowered nearby, but none of them were being harmed. Yet.

Hulk landed right in the middle of the green entities and they turned on him, swarming over the monster like ants on a fruit. Their weapons looked to be as solid and deadly as any I'd ever seen, and I cringed as they stuck them into Hulk's back. He shook them off like toothpicks, roaring and smashing things together all the while. When the Asgardian creatures were killed, they puffed away into smoke.

Thor raised his hammer above his head and began to swirl it around. Clouds suddenly formed in the sky: dark, dark clouds with an ominous feeling to them. Snow drifted down lightly, but I had no trouble hearing the thunder that rolled above it all.

I myself went to work, calling upon my seldom-used earthquake power to shake up the green army. I was the epicenter of the earthquake, and I could feel it climbing up the Richter scale: 4, 4.5, 6, 8, 8.7 . . . Still, I managed to keep it within a certain area, so as not to destroy shops and the people hiding inside. Instead, my earthquake succeeded in throwing everything into chaos.

"Thor, I think I have a plan!" I shouted over all the noise. His first lightning bolt struck the ground, petrifying the monsters around us. "We can take out thousands of these if we bottleneck them," I pointed to two buildings on either side of an intersection. "We set up on the roofs over there and lead them towards us. Hulk smashes from the ground, you beat up everything within sight, and I'll burn of any stragglers that get through our defenses. It'll be easier to kill them when they're lined up, rather than when we're in the middle of all of them."

"It is an admirable plan, worthy of the Valkyior themselves," he said, and I decided to take it as a compliment.

"We're going to get overrun otherwise, and soon . . ." I smacked a few wraiths around as Thor swung his hammer in a wide arc, taking out many of our attackers.

"Come," he commanded, clearing a path towards the buildings. I lit a dozen wraiths that got in our way on fire, burning them each to a crisp. My arms both turned into water involuntarily, but I gritted my teeth and focused my mind to get them back quickly.

Thor boosted me onto the fire escape of the first building, and from there I climbed up, peeking in through office windows to see the terrified people within. I smiled and waved at some of them, but they continued to look horrified. Thor flew off to the top of his building without wasting a breath, and had already called the Hulk over by the time I got to the top of mine.

"Fresh meat, all you can eat!" I shouted, waving my arms to get the army's attention. "Come and get it while it's still running!"

The combined hissing and growling noises that they made sent shivers down my spine and made my skin crawl. I shuddered, watching their ugly, deceased faces as they moved towards us quickly. "Now!" I cried over the din, spiking up a 9.7 earthquake at the same time as Thor struck with his lightning and snowstorm. So many wraiths were killed that the green mist that rose from their bodies obscured my vision, if only for a moment. Hulk pounded away happily in the street, using cars as toys to knock over the creatures and smashing their heads against the pavement.

"It is working!" Thor yelled over at me happily. Only a few of the warriors were getting through: I had thrown up a wall of wind, while causing the earthquake and lighting stragglers on fire, all at the same time. I had to take a break to empty out my lunch from my stomach, vomiting all over the streets below, but Thor kept the army in check with Mjolnir and the lightning. God, I don't know why anyone ever tried to fight him in battle. This guy was invincible. Supervillains' biggest and most common mistake was thinking they stood a chance against a _god_.

"Incoming!" Thor caught my attention, whipping his hammer around and throwing it at something behind me. It collided with a flying green beast before returning to him, but there were two more to take its place. I was knocked on my back by the ugly dog-looking things with wings, and I lost all concentration on the army below. Luckily it was almost all gone - we had at _least_ paired it down by half - and Hulk was still berserking and rampaging.

I grunted with effort as I backwards-somersaulted, avoiding the claws of the beast as it swooped towards me. The other one snapped with its jaws at my head, but I turned and blasted it back with wind. It flew into the Hulk, who ripped it in half.

The last creature whined, flying at me once more. I held out my hands and shoved it in the nose, making it collapse onto the roof. A rider fell off its back, but the green warrior woman quickly got to her feet. She ran at me, axe swinging.

"AGGH!" I threw up my arms in an X to block her from slicing my head right down the centre. Damn, she was strong. I gritted my teeth and felt beads of sweat drop down my brow as she took another swing, this time at my legs; I jumped over it. She tried for my head again, and this time I caught the axe, the sweat now running down my nose.

"Fine, you want to play?" I snapped, whipping around in a full circle and bringing my leg out, knocking her off her feet. I ripped the axe from her hands once she was on the floor, raising it above my head and then swiping it down into her face. She disappeared in a puff of smoke before any guts or blood could spurt out.

A mistake earthquake made me stumble, but I clutched the axe tightly as I tried to let the tremor pass. By the time it had, it was too late for me to realize that the flying beast behind me had woken up.

I screamed in agony as its tongue lashed out, wrapping around my lower legs and searing the skin. It felt as if the tongue was made of pure flame, burning the muscles on my legs. I fell over ungracefully and the pug-looking monster pounced on me, its weight literally breaking through the roof. We fell through to the next floor and then one floor after that, landing in the middle of a group of survivors.

"Nyy-eaahh!" I raised the axe and then swung it, separating the tongue from the body. We were half-buried by debris and rubble, and still I fought: I shook the building, further burying the flying creature as I used water to escape the tight grip of its dead tongue. Once my legs were free of its grasp, I re-solidified and burned the creature's face. Huffing and puffing, I ended it when I burned its brain.

"Ah. Ahhh. Ow ow ow," I sung in a high voice as I pushed rubble away from my legs. My entire lower body was covered in debris and fallen brick. I sucked in a deep breath and raised my hands, preparing to move away the rubble with air when suddenly a half dozen men came to my rescue, pulling away the offending debris. They worked together to get the brick and plaster away from me, and one even helped me out once it was cleared. They scorched their hands on the still-steaming timbers and the smoking brick in their desperation to get to me. In their _gratitude_.

I stumbled into the man who pulled me out, and to any bystander it probably looked like I was going in for a hug or a romantic fall or something, but honestly, it just hurt to walk. I hissed as I looked down at my legs, and gingerly I touched the wounds as the young man steadied me: there were large, charred lacerations that were blackened and bleeding, wrapped all the way around both my lower legs. Okay, okay. I'd live. It would just be mighty painful as I ran around Manhattan, trying to save the populace. There was a large gash in my shoulder, too; a deep cut that was bleeding profusely that I had probably sustained when falling through two ceilings.

A woman in the room was sobbing, pulling desperately at the pile of rubble; a few of my personal saviors helped her. "My son is under there!" she cried, her face red. "He was standing right there when the roof collapsed!"

I pushed away from the man steadying me. He must've been in his mid twenties, a little older than me; turning back to his friend, he whispered, "Did you see that? I held Masquerade! I actually got to hold her in my arms!"

"Dude, that's Captain America's girlfriend," his friend replied, punching him in the arm.

"No way, man, we totally had a connection. She's even prettier than she was on TV. Damn, you think I can ask for her number?" His friend smacked him upside the head.

I ignored the two, instead heading over to the sobbing woman. She reached out to me, hands shaking; silently, I turned to the debris pile and lifted my hands, using wind to delicately remove the rubble. I didn't want to upset anything and cause the whole thing to shift and crush the boy, assuming he was still alive. The men continued to pull away the pieces I hadn't gotten to. I heard voices around me, saying things like, "You see Masquerade? She's a real hero, she is. Just moments ago she was buried under the pile, and now she's already up and helping us. Doesn't think about herself for a moment. No hesitation."

Finally, we saw a little head poke up. The poor boy couldn't have been more than seven years old. I bounded up the pile of rubble to reach him, and manually dug away the rest of the debris holding him down. He lifted his arms to me, recognizing me as Masquerade, the Avenger: one of the people you can trust when in situations like this. The Avengers had reached a level of familiarity even beyond that of paramedics, police officers and firefighters. There were people who had never even met us, and yet still considered us to be their protectors: thanks to the media and our presence during large disasters, the Avengers had quickly become known all over the world and accepted into the hearts of families.

I lifted up the little boy, clutching him to my chest with his head tucked on my shoulder as I climbed back down. He clung on to me like a little monkey, his hands balled up in my hair. I stumbled a bit, falling and sliding down the pile, scraping my back - and suddenly there were hands helping, picking me back up, dusting me off. I delivered the little boy to his sobbing mother before someone dragged me away, sitting me down in a chair in the corner of the office.

"Masquerade, none of us are doctors, but some of us know first aid," a woman with dark brown hair and a square jaw announced. "We want to help you. Is that okay?"

"I'm fine-"

"Your legs are pretty beaten up, Miss," a teenager pointed out.

"But I-"

"That's enough of a yes for me," the woman winked, peeling back the fabric stuck to my wounds. Pain killer pills were shoved down my throat as someone splashed antiseptic on the wounds, and I cried out in pain - immediately, there were more people fussing around me, looking to help. My male admirer was there, petting my hair awkwardly; someone gave me a juice box and a stuffed frog (don't ask where they got it from. For all I knew, I had landed in a toy manufacturing factory). I cried out in pain again as the makeshift doctors began to clean the wound. A tear ran down my face.

"I - I need to get back out there," I gasped between screams. "I need to help fight." This was my defense mechanism; my reaction to this unfamiliar aid these people were giving me. It never even occurred to me until later that I had been helping keep their city safe for so long that now, they wanted to help _me_. All I could think about in that moment was all those I _wasn't_ helping by being stuck there.

A hand slipped into mine, and I looked up into the face of the woman whose son I had rescued. He was clutching onto her leg, looking at me with wide blue eyes just like Steve's. The woman smiled at me and thanked me, clutching my hand, but it was all I could do not to scream in her face as the brown-haired woman started working on my other leg. Instead I shut my eyes tight and rocked back and forth, crushing her hand in a vice grip. I breathed loudly through my nose, unable to concentrate on the woman's words of gratitude.

Just as soon as it had started, it was over. They'd cleaned the wounds and were now wrapping them in a light, soft gauze from a first aid kit: since the lacerations were primarily burns, they needed to let the wounds air, and thus gauze worked better than bandages. Someone did stick a bandage on my shoulder, though, wiping up the blood from there too.

I looked around at the dozen or so faces standing around me, helping me. A stranger. They could have brushed me off as just another mask who didn't care for the people as individuals. Instead, they called me a hero.

"Thank you," I said, catching my breath. "Thank you all so much. This is - this is -" I couldn't find the words.

"How about a kiss of gratitude?" the young man who had caught me puckered up his lips.

"Um, okay, I'm sorry, I'm dating Cap," I blushed deeply. Everyone laughed, and he covered his face in shame.

"Go get 'em, girlie. Make us proud," the brown-haired woman winked. "Good luck out there!"

"Thank you!" I stood, stretching out my legs. They still hurt, of course, but at least I wouldn't weaken from blood loss or pass out from too much unbearable pain.

And, what do you know, Iron Man came flying through my hole in the roof at just that moment. "Well, isn't your timing impeccable," I put my hands on my hips, tilting my head at him. He was blasting his war cry of AC/DC's Hells Bells. In war, to rally and inspire the troops, the ancient Chinese had trumpets; the British had bagpipes. Tony and I had classic rock n' roll.

He touched down on the ground and walked over to me, putting his face next to my ear as he turned down the screeching guitar music. "I've had eyes on this building for a few minutes. I wanted to let them . . . do their things. Make them feel like ordinary heroes for once."

"I don't blame you," I patted him on the metallic shoulder. "Shall we be off? What've I missed?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," Iron Man swung me around so that I was piggy-backing him as he saluted the crowd; I locked my arms around his neck in a vice grip as he took off at a gentle speed.

"Thanks again!" I waved as we left, smiling. The cute little boy blew me a kiss. Once we were out of view, I turned back to Tony. "Enchantress attacked Avengers Tower with an army of green mystical entities. The entire top half of the Tower is practically on its side. Also, Thor, the Hulk and I managed to take out most of the army. Where are they now?" I craned my neck, looking around the empty street as we flew back towards the Tower.

"I don't know, I didn't see them when I came by. I was at the Baxter Building when the attack started and I flew over here as soon as I could. Your energy signature was the first thing I picked up on," Tony's voice came through the Iron Man mask, sounding a bit robotic. "JARVIS is down. Enchantress must've taken out our communications systems first."

"Well, we need a battle plan. I haven't even seen Janet, Carol and Natasha all afternoon . . ."

"Well, I've seen even _less_ of the Avengers. We weren't prepared," his voice was grim as we circled the disaster that was Avengers Tower. "Did you take your serum?"

"Uh," I coughed awkwardly. "No?"

He shook his head, dislodging my grip a bit. "Sorry!" I squeaked. "But I heard," I smacked him on the side of the head, "that you told Bruce I have some sort of mental condition?"

"Well, it's no secret you're not the sanest of the Avengers," he said snidely.

"Doesn't mean I have a condition-"

"I heard it from your brother."

"God damn," I grumbled. "Wait - shit - Luke! He was in the Tower! Any idea where he is?"

"Actually, yes. He's down on the ground with Pepper and Jarvis. Lukie's fine, don't worry."

"How do you know this?" I asked as Tony took a nosedive and flew down towards the ground.

"Pep's got a spare Iron Man hand of mine, and I'm connected to all my armor via my backup JARVIS. It gave me enough of a reading to know that Luke's doing fine."

"Good, that's one less thing to worry about," I sighed as we touched down. "Look, we need to get the fighting off the streets. Should we go back to Central Park, like we did with Ultron?"

"I don't know, it's already started moving east," he slid me off his back and I stumbled a bit, but didn't fall. "We've got to take out Enchantress if we're going to take out the armies."

"That makes sense," I nodded. "Okay, Tony, you do an aerial scout. Find the others. I'm going to help down here while I can. Get Thor on Amora's ass, would you?"

"I'll see you around, Sammy," he stuck a metallic hand in my hair and fluffed it, making me flinch. Tony then took off into the darkening, snowy sky, leaving me alone on an empty street. Empty except for the small group of policemen helping a family.

I ran over to aid them, assisting where I could. A lot of jaws dropped when I first appeared. People were lucky to glimpse even just one Avenger fly by, let alone be rescued by one (then again, maybe you weren't lucky if you were being rescued - it meant you were in a pretty bad scrape). We were like celebrities, except less common, since we weren't dressed up as Avengers all hours of the day. The people of New York City could be sitting beside us on the subway, bagging our groceries, or nearly hitting us with their cars - and they didn't even know, because we didn't have our masks on.

One of the younger policemen stopped me from running off after we had gotten the family to safety underground. His eyes were red and tired, and he was covered in grime. "Is everything alright?" I asked, something making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

He choked on his words, clutching my arm tightly enough to drain the blood from it. "It's just - how can we - we're fighting a _god_," he gasped. "There's no way we can beat this."

"Okay, one, she's a goddess," I pointed out, "two, we have a god on our side too, and three, we've done it before. Loki was a god, too. Ultron was a killer robot. We beat them."

"But this Enchantress woman has an infinite army!" I could see the desperation in his eyes.

Okay. Time to channel my inner Steve. "Look, I know this are desperate times, and I know you're scared, but I promise you, _I am not_," I took his hands in mine. The rest of the police officers began to crowd around us. "It's perfectly natural to be afraid, but I am not, because what we do - helping people and defending ourselves - it's necessary. It may seem impossible to take out the Enchantress, and her army may seem endless," I huffed, "but after us? There's no one else," I stressed.

The police captain appeared over the young man's shoulder, listening in. "Look at me," I said, backing away a little so everyone could see my face. "All of you." I took a deep breath. "I believe in an idea," I repeated words that I knew to be Steve's, "an idea that a single individual who has the right heart and the right mind . . . an individual consumed with a single purpose . . . he can win a war. Give that one man a group of soldiers - of policemen, of doctors, of firefighters - with the same purpose and you can change the world. Now . . . you boys know where I can find some men like that?"

The distraught men in front of me cracked a smile, as did the rest of the force. I felt kind of bad, stealing one of Cap's speeches, but I'm sure this was just what it should be used for. Steve, as Captain America, had gotten awfully good at giving men speeches filled with empty promises even when he was scared out of his own boots. Cap was their inspiration back in the war: all the soldiers looked up to him. He knew that most of the men he was talking to were probably going to die, but he had to give them some hope to hold on to anyway. I had heard all of his speeches at some point or another. More often than not, Steve or I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night. Whenever it was me who was sobbing and shaking, Steve would hold me and rock me back and forth while telling me something uplifting. Something that would remind me that the fight was worth it.

The man in front of me hugged me tightly, and I patted him on the top of the head gently. "You guys need to keep helping the helpless," I said, pulling away. "I need to go east to the centre of the battle."

"We've got a police motorcycle you can use to get through all the stopped traffic," the captain said.

"You'd actually let me use it?!"

"Hey, so long as you return it in good shape," he winked. "Or we'll just say you stole it . . ."

"Yeah, yeah," I shook my head. "How do you drive it?"

He gave me a quick run-down on the bike, and I caught in quickly. Steve owned a motorcycle, and I had watched him use it enough times to understand the basics.

"I feel bad for taking the bike," I admitted to the police officers, but they pretended to turn a deaf ear. "Damn, why is everyone so damn nice to the Avengers?"

"Because you're on the front lines," I was told. "You're the ones most likely to get . . . you know . . ."

"Ruined," I supplied. They looked grim. Saying my last thank-yous, I sped off, finally heading towards one of the bridges connecting Manhattan to the rest of New York. Dodging between the abandoned cars was hard, but not impossible. I had to ride on quite a few sidewalks.

Finally I found Tony fighting the Enchantress, both of them on the bridge that I had headed towards. They were quite the match for one another: Tony with his fancy backflips and gadgets, and Amora with her balls of exploding energy and crackling green electricity. It was magic versus technology.

I parked the bike gently by the bridge and made sure to turn it off and pocket the keys as I sprinted over, my calves aching. Tony had deployed a few of his homing missiles at Amora, but she exploded each in the air with a flick of the finger. She shot at him with both hands, green blasts coming out and hitting him square in the chest; Tony went flying backwards into a supporting beam on the bridge, and he tumbled out of the air onto the ground.

"Tony!" I cried, running over to where he was passed out unconscious.

"Engaging suit shock: reviving occupant. Stand back," the Iron Man suit said. There was a sudden shock that ran through the armor, and it woke Tony up with a yell; I stumbled back in surprise.

"I upgraded that into the suit after the battle with the Chitauri," he exclaimed, blasting the Enchantress with a unibeam from his chest. She careened from the sky, crashing onto a car.

"Suit power at 30% capacity," JARVIS announced loudly enough to hear.

"I know," Tony growled. "Shut up." He turned to me. "You okay, kid?" he asked, raising the mask on his helmet. His mustache was half burned off.

"Dude, I saw you like, ten minutes ago," I raised an eyebrow.

Tony suddenly fell into me, coughing blood. I screamed as I fell on my butt, Tony and the entire Iron Man armor pinning me down. The Enchantress stood behind him, a funny-looking gun in her hand. It was like a plastic water gun, but I could see the green glowing liquid splashing around inside it. She panted, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. There was a smoking hole in the back of Iron Man's suit. The gun had burned right through all the armor, and had left a light bruise-like mark on Tony's back. It was, of course, circular and green. God, I was so sick of that color.

"Tony!" I screamed, lifting his face to look at me. He was alive, but something was wrong; his veins had gone, you guessed it, green, and he tilted his head while he looked at me.

"Father and daughter. How fitting it will end this way," Enchantress cackled.

"Fuck, Amora, I'm not his daughter," I rolled my eyes. "I can't believe you haven't figured that out yet. Jeez."

She pouted, stomping her foot as I slid out from underneath Tony. "No matter. This pretty darling," she stroked the weapon, "was created by me and Loki."

"What, did you give birth to it? Is it your baby?" I took a few steps closer.

She narrowed her eyes. "We combined my magic with Midgardian nuclear radiation to create a weapon strong enough to turn you on yourself."

"So that's what happened to the damn Chenobyl stuff?"

"Yes." Her fingers curled over the gun. Behind me, Tony groaned from the ground; he tried to stand, but fell over. "It doesn't kill you, but it renders you useless," her lips curled over her teeth in a smile. "Makes you crazy."

"Joke's on you, I'm already crazy," I tentatively took another step forward. There was a sudden gasp from Tony - I whipped around to see Natasha Romanoff dragging him off the bridge. She had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, but now she was helping, and I felt my spirits lift.

I turned back to Amora, who had her gun raised at me. God, I wish I was back in high school, where my biggest worry was the math test next week. I took a deep breath, preparing to fight Amora in hand-to-hand combat. Let's see if all Steve's, Tasha's and Clint's lessons could be put to good use.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I'D GIVE TO BE DOING CALCULUS RIGHT NOW?!"

I swiftly balled my left hand into a fist, cupped the fist in my other hand and, using my right to add momentum, jabbed my left elbow in the Enchantress's injured side. Without time for a surprised yelp, an iron-hard fist followed.

She grunted and raised her funny-looking gun. I grabbed the barrel, yanked, and then shoved it back in her face, catching her nose and making it bleed. Ducking to the side, I rammed my knee in her groin and then, using the same leg, twisted my torso so that my foot was parallel to the ground. I flexed and released my leg, my foot contacting the Enchantress's knee squarely. There was a faint pop as the knee bent the wrong way, twisting but not breaking.

The Enchantress growled and, using her injured leg, kicked my own right knee. I hissed in pain, but I had been through worse, so I punched her in the face. She was thrown to the ground by a quick shove to the chest.

"Eheheh," the Enchantress coughed, aiming the alien gun for my face - and firing, hitting right between my eyes.

I don't even remember falling backwards; I just remember opening my eyes and feeling the ground beneath my back. Enchantress was gone, and the word tipped precariously to the right. God, what time was it? How long had I been out? How long had the battle been going on?

I checked the clock in my utility belt. 6:73, it read. Okay, cool.

I tried to stand. I really did. But the whole world was on its side. Plus, someone had parked three of the same car in front of me. And three more of the same behind them. Why? What did that accomplish?

The three cars lit on fire.

I looked down at the ground, where blue snow lay at my feet. Leaning against the red car, the flames tickled my hands, but I didn't really notice. I tried to push myself up to a standing position - but wasn't I already standing?

Keep pushing, I told myself. It's like a pushup. But the world kept tilting on its side the more and more I pushed. My hands started to become warmer. What time was it again? 6:73? That wasn't a real time. 6:83, maybe? There was a ringing somewhere in the distance, and I turned my head to look towards the sound. It sounded just like my doorbell at home, at my old house in Chicago. Like Big Ben, sort of. There was no bell tower or anything where I looked, though. Just sideways buildings. Purple buildings. And the bridge, between me and the buildings.

I took my hands off the car as the ground shook violently, and everything around me shifted once more. Now it was like looking through a kaleidoscope: the red car was above me, the ground was beside me, and the horizon was split into three different shards of glass. The overwhelming urge to throw up came over me, and I tried to run towards the edge of the bridge.

I didn't make it. I couldn't run straight. I zigzagged into another car, this one bright orange with yellow stripes. The stripes moved, as my vision played back like a video that was buffering. It kept skipping over the same scene, zooming in and out. Finally, my charred, blackened hands found the edge of the bridge. I tried to climb up onto the ledge so that I could throw up into the river below, but once I was on the ledge I had nowhere to go.

A high-pitched buzzing sound started in my ears, and I covered my head with my arms. It was so loud. Too loud. Like static on a radio or feedback from a microphone. It made my head pound and my ears bleed. I couldn't concentrate on anything. What was I even doing here? Where was here? How had I gotten so disoriented?

I tried walking in a straight line on the edge of the bridge; I tried to walk away from the sound. I made it about two steps before my footing went wonky and I slipped, losing my balance and falling over the edge. Okay. No big deal. My head was randomly turning into water anyway.

Someone had caught my ankle as I fell, yanking me back up over the edge and dumping me onto the bridge. Finally, I recognized a human face: the Winter Soldier. Bucky. Cap's old partner!

I reached up for him and caught my fingers in his long hair, yanking him down to me. He shoved me off, but then bent back down and picked me up bridal-style. He still had that funny mechanical arm of us. Bionic, I think it was called. The air around him was light purple, blue and green, and tiny bubbles floated through the air. It was as if he was underwater. Maybe I really had fallen off the bridge.

"You're Steve's girlfriend, right?" he grunted.

No words came out of my mouth as I squeezed my eyes shut. Everything became blindingly bright all at once. I heard Bucky sigh over the sound of the radio static, and before I knew it he was running me off the bridge, into a safe little alcove on the Manhattan street.

I tilted my head to the side as the land shifted again, kind of like Avengers Tower had in the beginning. The land started to shake, too, and Bucky swore, "Shit, why're you causing an earthquake? I'm trying to help!" I tried to frown. I wasn't causing an earthquake - at least, not on purpose.

He set me down gently and then ran off without another word. I tried to crawl after him, but found that I wasn't getting very far when my head was pressed against the ground. The street swirled.

I don't know how long it took for Natasha Romanoff to finally find me. "Damn, not you too," she whispered under her breath, leaning down to place a hand against my forehead. "Enchantress shot you, didn't she? Fucking brain mutation of hers already got Tony." She swore colorfully in Russian. "How'd you get off the bridge? It's become a real battle zone."

"Bucky," I gasped, my throat as dry as sandpaper. I felt like I hadn't had anything to drink in years.

Tasha frowned. "Honey, you're delusional. Don't even try."

"He was. Here. Bucky," I repeated.

"Sam-"

"I know. What I. Saw. Buck saved me," I coughed.

Her eyes slowly widened as she saw that I wasn't entirely crazy. "James is - he's here?" she asked, excited. She leapt up from where she crouched on the ground, and the world glowed too bright again. "Sam, I need to-" she looked down at me again. "I need to take care of you," she finally sighed. "Come on, arm around my shoulder. That's it. You can walk," she moved my limbs as if I was a rag doll. "We've got staff waiting at the hospital. Let's . . . let's get you back to your normal level of mental instability."

* * *

**Author's Note: Eh, might still take me some time to get back into the swing of things. Not sure I like this chapter, but it had to be posted. Lotsa shit going on in my life right right, dunno when the next chapter might be up. Sorry.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter! You guys are truly the best: _Shadow Realm Triforce, CeffylGwyn, Awareness, erica . phoenix 16, InLoveWithTheRogue, scott6130, Eponine _and_ brandibuckeye_! You guys make it all worth it.**

**Thanks to everyone for reading this chapter, and please let me know what you thought! I love to hear from you all in reviews; tell me what you liked or how I could improve :) Thanks again, and READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	23. End of the Beginning

Natasha Romanoff's POV

_This is not the end, this is not even the beginning of the end, this is just perhaps the end of the beginning._

_- Winston Churchill_

Where was I when the whole Enchantress battle started? Honestly? I was grocery shopping. Yes, I know how stupid that sounds. The deadly Black Widow was buying food when Avengers Tower was attacked. She wasn't beating up some other super villain, she wasn't doing S.H.I.E.L.D work, she wasn't training. She was buying food.

We were out of tea, and Clint had gotten whiny, okay?

Anyway, it turned out to be a good thing. It meant I was on the ground when the attack started. I don't know what I would have done if I had been up in the Tower: the whole top half had fallen over, and I would have either been killed or trapped. On the ground was where I needed to be; that way I could kick ass.

After the initial confusion, during which I basically went around smacking everything into whatever reality it came from, I headed to the east of the city. From what I could tell, the army was thinning out and the Enchantress was headed that way. I needed to find some way to use my skills as a spy and an assassin. I was an Avenger; I was part of a team now. It meant I was thrown into the middle of a war.

Back at the beginning when the Avengers were first being formed, I told Clint that "This was nothing we were ever trained for." That still rang true. We hadn't been trained for large battles like this. We'd been trained in the art of espionage - get in, do your thing, and get out without being seen. I still found this "attacking" to be uncomfortable. I wanted to work behind the scenes.

And maybe I could. When I first made it to the bridge, it was right as the Enchantress shot Tony in the back. Masquerade smacked around the Enchantress a bit as I picked my way through the debris to get to Tony, and I pulled him to safety. He wasn't entirely unconscious, but he wasn't all there either.

I dragged him out of the line of battle, muttering to myself. Okay, this kind of grunt work was beneath me - but as I said, I was part of a team. I'd get my chance to actually do something later. Just . . . not now.

"Wake up, Stark," I ripped off his helmet and found that he was perfectly conscious. He wasn't coherent though, as I learned when he started mumbling about how we were both underwater. "What the hell did the Enchantress do to you?"

"It was a literal mind mutation," came a voice from behind me, and I turned to see Hank Pym standing there in his Ant-Man gear. "I overheard the Enchantress talking about it. She combined radiation with magic to mutate Tony's brain."

My eyes widened in horror. "Is he going to die? Is his brain going to come out his ears or something?"

"I don't know," Hank mumbled. "A hospital would probably be a good idea."

"Nearest hospital's a forty minute walk from here," I gritted my teeth and blinked against the snow that was falling from the sky.

"I'll take him," a high-pitched voice said. I squinted and noticed a tiny Janet, flying around beside Hank. She grew quickly in size until she was a few feet bigger than me, blocking out the sky. "I'll take him and come right back!"

"You sure?" I asked, tilting my head to look up at her.

"Yeah, it's no problem. Granted, I would rather stay and help kick butt, but Tony's gonna get _his_ butt kicked if we don't help him."

"Fine," I grunted as I lifted him up from the ground and passed him to Janet, who grew a bit bigger so that she could hold him in one hand and then fly north. Hank and I watched her go, and I couldn't help but wish I had the power of flight.

"We've got a goddess to catch, Widow, let's get going," Hank said. "I saw Clint and Steve headed that way," he pointed in the direction I had just come from.

"That's where Enchantress was last I saw her," I nodded. Ant-Man shrunk down to ant-size with his Pym Particles, and he called up a flying ant to pick him up and carry him. Flying ants grossed me out, so I tried to ignore him. Through Hank's silver helmet, he could communicate with ants of any type, and with his Pym Particles he could change size. So far it hadn't been the most useful of powers, but it had its advantages if used right.

We were stopped on our way to the bridge by a large battalion of the Enchantress's minions. I crouched down in a defensive stance, fully prepared to whoop more butts into oblivion when Hawkeye came barreling down the street and into the middle of their group.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, shocked as he started whacking the creatures with his bow.

"Improvising!" he swung the bow in an arc. I grabbed the fist of a wraith and flipped it on its back, stomping its face in while I elbowed another one that was sneaking up from behind at the same time. I turned and faced the next wraith, putting my hands on its shoulders and jumping up, doing a handstand. I bent my elbows and then launched off, flipping into a ring of creatures.

Ant-Man was putting his Pym Particles to good use by landing on the wraiths when in ant-size, and then rapidly growing to surprise them and knock them over. He would be nearly invisible, and then suddenly appear in front of one with a boot to its face.

"Why are you improvising?" I asked, finding myself back-to-back with my old fighting partner, Hawkeye.

"Ran out of arrows. I only brought eleven," he shrugged, smacking a wraith over the head with his compound bow. I raised my arms and fired off my Widow's bracelets, stinging each entity with tens of thousands of volts of electro-shock. They disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Clint, there's like, a thousand aliens," I snapped.

"And I killed eleven of them. You're welcome."

I snapped the neck of a wraith that got too close and kicked out behind me at another one, catching it in the face with my boot. Quickly turning around, I jammed the heel of my hand up underneath the nose of a humanoid wraith, breaking her nose back into her brain and skull. She disappeared, thank God, as it wouldn't have been a pretty sight to see the blood and brain coming out of her face.

I leapt up and wrapped my legs around the neck of a green entity, breaking its neck and using my temporary height to smack away a few more creatures. I twisted in the air, leaping onto one of the giant dog-looking monsters and shooting it once in each eye with the Widow's Bite bracelets.

I pulled my gun from my hip holster with one hand and started unloading lead into the vile creatures. With the other hand, I unclipped one of the explosive disks from my belt and threw it into the mob, blowing a few of them up with a shriek.

The sound of my gun being fired attracted more creatures, and I hit them each with a headshot until I ran out of bullets. My next clip was strapped to my thigh, but I had to leap over a still-biting monster and then flip over a car before I was in the clear; I didn't want to worry about being clawed at while I reloaded. The Black Widow suit that Tony had given me to replace my S.H.I.E.L.D one worked perfectly, and it was easier to leap and twirl around it, even though it looked the same. The all-black bodysuit reminded me of my days in Russia as a ballerina. Well, as a spy posing as a ballerina. That was where I had gotten so graceful and skilled at gymnastics.

There was a sudden rumbling on the ground, and it sank beneath our feet. I abandoned my clip and reached for Clint, who was just two feet away. He grabbed me and I fired off the grapple in my Widow's bracelet; it wrapped around a streetlight and dragged us up until we were hanging there, Clint clutching onto me desperately.

"This is the second time today I've been hanging on for my life," he grumbled.

"You think it's Sam's earthquake?" I asked, watching as the entire street suddenly disappeared into the ground and sunk down into the dirt below, taking every wraith with it and slaughtering them all.

"She doesn't destroy streets, she only shakes them," frowned Hawkeye.

"That was me," I turned to see Ant-Man, who had shrunken and was now back on his flying ant. "The ants of New York City were more than happy to crawl around under the street and cause it to weaken, and then collapse."

I had to admit, I was impressed. I told Hank so, and he blushed.

When the earth finally stopped shifting I released Clint, and then jumped down myself. We landed quietly as cats, looking around at the now silent street in awe. It was going to cost the city a hell of a lot of money to fix that up.

Janet swooped in at wasp-size, buzzing around her husband. "Let's go let's go let's go the fight's over at the bridge let's go we're missing out-"

"This isn't a game," I rolled my eyes. Hawkeye and Ant-Man sprinted after her, winding through the chaotic streets; I opted for an easier route. Nimbly climbing up a nearby fire escape, I took to the uncluttered rooftops and, again, used my ballet training to leap across the gaps between buildings. I even managed to throw in a front walkover and a roundoff, just for fun.

At the end of the row of roofs, I was just one street away from the bridge. I could see the Enchantress on it, piling up cars and flinging them around like toys. There was a flash of blue, white and red - Captain America - and Ms. Marvel flew around, too. The battle had finally been confined to one area, after we had destroyed most of the city. No big deal.

I leapt onto the fire escape of the last building, hooking my fingers around the metal railing and swinging down gracefully. Down at the bottom, though, near an alleyway, I was met with an unwelcome sight.

"Damn, not you too," I whispered under my breath, leaning down to place a hand against Sam's forehead. She lay on the ground in front of me, absolutely covered in grime and filth, and with bandages on her lower legs and shoulder. I could tell that she was going through the same thing as Tony because of the blank, glassy look in her eyes, the overheated skin and the little murmurs escaping her lips. Her eyes wandered as she licked her lips and attempted to push her blonde hair away from her mask; I noticed then that her hands had been burned to a second degree, possibly third.

"Enchantress shot you, didn't she? Fucking brain mutation of hers already got Tony," I swore in Russian. "How'd you get off the bridge? It's become a real battle zone." I doubted the Enchantress had left her little fortress of cars to shoot Sam, and I had last seen them on the bridge together. There was no way Sam could've gotten here by herself, not in this state.

"Bucky," she gasped, her voice hoarse. Sam stared at the sky with wide eyes, gulping for air.

I sighed, frowning. Why had I even bothered to ask? "Honey, you're delusional. Don't even try."

"He was. Here. Bucky," she said, stopping and starting with her words, as if it was difficult to talk.

"Sam-" I tried.

"I know. What I. Saw. Buck saved me," she began coughing hysterically.

Maybe she was telling the truth . . . ? She certainly seemed to believe it. Was it possible that James had saved her? I knew he was in Manhattan - so didn't it make sense that he would come out to help in this battle? He had both me and Steve to fight for, and he wanted to make up for his past mistakes as the Winter Soldier. What better way to do it than participate in this battle? And to save Masquerade? That was a big deal. She wasn't just known for being the Masked Avenger with a soft spot for babies in burning buildings and enough potential power to wipe out the entire city; she was also known for being Cap's girlfriend because of the picture after the Ultron battle. James must've known it would kill Steve to lose her, and that she'd come back and tell us that Bucky was back and he was a hero . . .

All this passed through my mind in the space of a few seconds. "James is - he's here?" I asked, excited now. "Sam, I need to-" I looked down at Masquerade, lying broken on the ground. "I need to take care of you," I grimaced. "Come on, arm around my shoulder. That's it. You can walk," I picked her up from the ground and slung one of her arms over my shoulder. A fierce wind whipped up that I knew Sam must've caused, but she didn't seem to notice. "We've got staff waiting at the hospital," I thought of Tony, and hoped to maybe get Sam back to Ms. Marvel or the Wasp - one of them could fly her up to the hospital. "Let's . . . let's get you back to your normal level of mental instability," I attempted a joke, but she seemed very close to passing out.

"Ah can take care of her."

I suddenly found my path blocked by the X-Man Rogue and her big bush of brown hair with the white streak in it. She wore a green bodysuit with an X on the belt and white fur outlining thing, accompanied by a furry green and edged-in-white cape with a hood. Well, she was dressed for the weather.

"What happened to your normal costume? Yellow with green sides?" I asked, kind of dumbfounded to how she had appeared so suddenly.

"Ah changed. Can't be dressed like an X-Man if Ah want to join the Avengers," she said, holding out her arms. "Give Masquerade to me and Ah'll git her to the hospital. Ain't much Ah can do here now, Ah don't know how your Avengers protocols work."

"You're not an Avenger yet, Rogue," I eyed her wearily.

"But Ah'm in New York and Ah want to help," she argued.

"It's all right, Natasha, we'll take care of Blondie." I turned to see Wolverine leaning against the wall. He was dressed in civvies and didn't seem too pleased with Rogue's actions; a beer was in his hand. Don't know where he found that in all the chaos.

"Fine," I grumbled, passing Masquerade to Rogue. The mutant held her gently, almost as if she was afraid of her. Sam went on muttering about a purple hallway.

"Ah don't like taking people's powers without permission, but do you think she's got any powers that'll help me and Logan get to the hospital faster?"

I shook my head. "You want helpful powers, talk to Wasp or Ms. Marvel."

"Oh, that's right! Ah still got some of Ms. Marvel's powers," the young Southern girl brightened. "Now, let's see if Ah can remember how to fly . . ."

I exchanged a cautious glance with Wolverine, and then took my leave. I had only handed over Sam because Rogue was with Logan, and I trusted him. I had known him when I was still a child, before I had even been trained as the original Black Widow. Our lives both went way back, and they intertwined many times. I trusted him.

The bridge was a war zone. It was astounding that this one woman could take on all of the Avengers at once. Granted, we didn't have Iron Man or Masquerade, and Hawkeye was out of arrows - but we were still being sorely beaten. Hawkeye, Ant-Man and Wasp arrived at the bridge at the same time as me, looking apprehensive.

"Eh, I dunno, Steve and Carol seem to be handling things pretty well on their own," Clint shrugged. Janet kicked him in the face, but she was at wasp-size and I doubt he really felt it.

"James might be here," I told them. "If anyone seems him, let me know." Somewhere on the far side of the bridge, there was a large explosion. Ms. Marvel absorbed it and sent it back at the Enchantress.

We split up. Clint ran straight ahead into the fray, Janet flew high above the bridge, and Hank shrunk down and crawled forward. I took a less direct approach, staying to the side of the bridge to avoid detection.

The Enchantress looked like she was having the time of her life, smiling and laughing while she traded energy blasts with Ms. Marvel and waged a hand-to-hand combat with Cap at the same time. I raised my gun once I was closer and aimed for the Enchantress, before I realized I had dropped my clip and there were no bullets. Grunting, I pulled out another to reload.

Ant-Man suddenly grew, already perched on the Enchantress's back. She shrieked and toppled over, and in a flash he went back to undetectable size. Janet, on the other hand, swooped in while standing about ten feet tall; she picked the Enchantress up and flew her up to the top of the bridge, leaving her there. I could hear Amora's shrieks as Jan used her Wasp's Stings, trying to get the goddess to surrender.

I emerged from my hiding place, clicking the gun together as Ms. Marvel flew up to join Wasp. "Cap," I nodded at him in recognition as Hank and Clint joined us in looking up at the sky and the fight going on up there.

"You guys seen Sam? Tony? Thor and the Hulk?" Cap asked.

"I . . . Steve, you're hurt," I noticed suddenly. Blood was seeping from a large wound in his side, where his costume was striped red and white.

"It's - huh - it's nothing," he grimaced.

"My ass it's nothing," Clint muttered under his breath. Green light flashed above us.

"I heard that, Agent Barton."

"Your forehead's bleeding, too," I pointed out.

"Got hit with a brick. Doesn't matter, I'm fine," he shook his head. "Look, we need a plan to take out the Enchantress. She's only beating us because we're unprepared. If Thor was here-"

"Why don't we just kill her?" Ant-Man posed the obvious question.

"She's immortal, Doctor Pym," Steve said, always so formal. Suddenly, Janet fell from the sky, crash landing on the Enchantress's barricade of cars.

"I'm okay!" she chirped, groaning as she shrunk to normal size. Hank ran over to help.

"YYYYEEEAAAAAHHHHH-" there was a large crash as Carol picked the Enchantress up by the throat and then threw her into one of the great towers on the bridge. It groaned under her weight, and she fell down like a ragdoll.

Amora was up in a second, her mutant gun pointed right at us. "No!" I cried, lunging to the side and knocking Steve back right as she fired. We grunted, slamming into a car with me on top of him; he threw up his shield and hugged me to his chest with the other arm as she shot again. It rebounded off the vibranium, and the green light smacked Hank right in the back of the head.

Damn. Another Avenger down.

I wiggled out of Cap's embrace even as he tried to convince me to stay under his protection so I could run at the Enchantress, sticking my gun in its holster and reaching for my gas mask on my utility belt. Before she had time to react to my advancement, I shot my Widow's Kiss at her with the other hand - an instant knock-out and tear gas that I had modified.

The two of us were immediately engulfed by a large grey cloud of smoke as I strapped my mask on tightly. The fog was so dense that it was impossible to see, and so I relied on my hearing and heightened senses. She was slightly to my right but still in front of me, casting some sort of spell -

I charged her, catching the Enchantress by the shoulder and pushing her down. She coughed in the gas, sounding woozy as she muttered a few more incantations; I kicked her in the face. Still, the damn goddess didn't pass out.

The smoke cleared way too quickly, and I assumed correctly that it was one of the spells she had cast. Now she lay battered and bleeding on the ground in front of me, looking exhausted. "Slow down, wench," she looked at me and the way I was standing ready for a fight.

I looked up in surprise to find that we were surrounded by a semi-transparent green dome that was hardly ten feet in diameter. It completely encased me and Amora, along with a few cars; I had only been caught inside because I had been running at her when she cast this protective spell. My appearance was a fluke. Outside I could see Clint kicking the dome in frustration, and Carol throwing everything she had at it, both photon blast and body. They weren't making a dent.

"It doesn't snow in my protective sphere," the Enchantress smiled weakly. "I like that. The snow reminds me of frost giants. Nasty creatures."

Rather than attacking, I crouched down beside her. "It must be hard, being forced to come to Midgard to do someone else's dirty work."

She looked at me skeptically, eyebrows raised.

"I know what it's like, sort of. I come from Russia. A beautiful country. Then I join the Girl Scouts," I snorted, "and am forced to live and work in this dirty city."

Amora still wasn't buying it.

"Every day, it's 'Natasha, go buy milk. Natasha, go stop the bank robbers. Natasha, help me pick out my outfit.'" Slowly I unholstered my gun, playing with it right in front of her. "I was trained for more than this. I was trained to save - or ruin - the world. I can't be a spy when I'm an Avenger."

The Enchantress sat up. "I was meant to be queen of Asgard," she sniffed. "Marry Thor, take over the throne. And then Thor came to Midgard and hasn't looked back since."

"So now you destroy Midgard?"

"So now I take second-best," her eyes narrowed angrily. "I go to Loki. I go to Thanos. I use magic to wreck rather than heal."

"Well," I shifted, "wrecking's more fun."

Her eyes flashed cautiously, but she nodded. "What do you want from me, Widow?"

"I want to understand you. We're both women caught somewhere that isn't our home, doing things we don't want to do," I lied with a straight face.

"You cannot understand me. I am a goddess; you are an enemy, a mortal."

"Thanos sent you here to have you test us?" I asked her, but it was more of a statement.

"Fury sent you here to wipe the red from your ledger?" she snapped back, basically confirming what I had asked.

"I've done bad things in my life. I made a name for myself before joining S.H.I.E.L.D," I admitted. "I _earned_ the name Black Widow."

"Thanos is going to kill you all, you know. Humans are weak. Even you," she snarled. Over her shoulder, outside of the dome, I saw Thor and the Hulk arrive on the bridge.

"I understand he wants to court Death?"

"He is twisted. His hand manipulates the universe. Loki's only manipulates Asgard."

"And you? What do you manipulate?"

She grinned suddenly, showing all her teeth. "The minds of men."

Three things happened at once, then. Thor, on the outside, unleashed the full power of his lightning on the dome, shattering it into millions of tiny pieces; the green magic floated down to the ground with the snow. Secondly, the Enchantress raised her mind mutating gun, pointing it straight at my chest and fired. Now, I could dodge bullets - but this was magic. I couldn't dodge magic. She hit me and the shock of it sent me reeling back.

Still, not before the third and final thing happened: I raised _my_ gun and put a slug between her eyes.

Shall I describe to you what it's like to have your brain mutated? What it's like to see things change color and shape in front of you; to see beauty in horror and terror in peace? The way the earth shifts beneath your feet, and the way every sound is nullified or non-existent or fabricated from your imagination or even so loud it can't be real? No. It's impossible to describe. It's like waking up from a bad dream: that moment where your breath is still caught in your throat and you can't remember what's real and what isn't. When you don't even understand the concept of time or a clock.

I do remember a few things; enough to tie up this entry in the journal. The Enchantress was unconscious, not dead, but it didn't matter. We had her now. We didn't have Loki, but we had Amora. No more green wraiths or bridge schemes; she was our prisoner. Hulk took pleasure in making sure she stayed unconscious by bashing her around a bit. The battle was over. We'd won, finally. We hadn't won the war with Ultron, but we had won this one. None of us were happy with how it went down - how much of the city had been destroyed, how unorganized we were - but it was over.

It was still snowing. I remember that clearly. And I remember Ms. Marvel picking me up and carrying me to the hospital, while Janet followed behind with Hank. From there on, though, everything went out of wack.

Still. We had won!

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! Here's the real chapter. Seriously, just ignore the April Fool's one. That never happened ;)**

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and the April Fool's short! You guys have such amazing things to say, I love every review that I get: _Fellowship of Avengers, CeffylGwyn, scott6130, brandibuckeye, InLoveWithTheRogue, erica . phoenix 16, Eponine T . Daae, clarinetgirl628, shelbs, Awareness, sofia, Viviannafox and Kylie . roby . 58_! Thank you all so much for your kind words and continued support, and welcome to the new reviewers!**

**Oh, and I didn't make Rogue's accent so over the top in this chapter ;) I just stuck with "Ah" for "I" because that's what they do in the comics.**

**So . . . the big battle's over. Only two chapters left, guys! Next up: Sam's instability peaks, Cap yells at doctors, we find out where Thor goes whenever he's missing, and Natasha reveals who Sin really is! Stay tuned, please leave a review to tell me what you thought, and READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	24. Horrible, isn't it?

Steve Rogers' POV

_Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up._

_- Neil Gaiman_

"Excuse me! Excuse me, nurse, I'm looking for Masquerade-"

The nurse turned and stared up at me in utter shock. "C-Captain America?!" she stuttered.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm looking for my teammates; I understand they're being treated somewhere in this hospital?"

Her mouth flapped open and closed like a fish out of water.

I began to grow impatient. "Look, is there someone around here in charge with whom I can speak about Masquerade?"

Not ten minutes ago, Thor had flown me and Clint to this hospital after Carol and Janet; since we arrived, though, Clint had ran off to the ER and Thor had disappeared, whereas Carol and Jan had left me so they could get Tash and Hank to a doctor. To my horror, I had been told by medical staff that Sam had been shot by the Enchantress and her brain mutating magic. I knew I should've stayed by her side, watched over her during the battle-

"Sir, we're going to have to take you into merge," a much younger nurse sidled up beside her coworker, keeping her cool. I noticed for the first time the large group of civilians surrounding us, sneaking glances at me and eavesdropping.

"I'm fine," I stated firmly.

"Your side is bleeding heavily and I can see blood dripping down from behind your mask," she pointed out, since I still had the helmet on. "It is essential that we tend to your wounds as quickly as possible, as you're losing blood fast."

"I came to see my girlfriend, ma'am, and I would appreciate it if you directed me to where she's staying," I said, trying not to snap.

"Your girlfriend?"

"Masquerade. Is she all right? Is she stable? What's wrong with her?"

"Doctor Donald Blake just got here, and he's attending to the sick Avengers. He's our best doctor," she assured me, keeping a calm and steady voice. "Now please, sir, we need to bandage your wound."

"I heal quickly, I'll be okay."

She young raven-haired girl looked at me dubiously. "You're losing a lot of blood."

"I just want to see Masquerade," my voice took on a softer tone. I tried to push past the two nurses - the older one was still staring at me, dumbstruck - but the raven-haired woman pushed me back.

"You're not going anywhere, Captain America, until we've made sure you're okay."

I tugged at my gloves in frustration. She was right, that was the annoying thing - I was losing blood and was starting to feel woozy . . . but I just wanted to see Sam so badly, I couldn't sit around while she went through whatever crazy hell was making her insane.

"Captain, I'm telling you that Masquerade is fine. Tony Stark, too. They're just unconscious right now, but both of them will made it through."

I released a breath I didn't even know I was holding. "Can I see her? Please? I need to - to tell her I love her," I pleaded.

The nurse looked at me sympathetically, a sad smile on her lips. "We need to get you fixed up first, sir. Can't have an open wound in a quarantined section of the hospital."

I gritted my teeth together, but finally gave in. She lead me off to a back room in which Clint was already lying in a bed, a doctor checking away things on a clipboard as Clint talked. He winked at me when he saw me.

"Just sit here, Captain, and I'm afraid I'll need to cut through the fabric of your costume-" my nurse said, patting a hospital bed that was between Clint and a window.

"It's okay, I can take the shirt off, it's not a full bodysuit," I removed the blue, red and white Captain America body armor: a weave of Kevlar and a soft fabric that was gentle to the touch but ultra protective. Underneath I wore a blue long-sleeved shirt, and I peeled that off too, trying not to wince with pain as it became unstuck from my wound. I had sustained the injury while fighting a wraith - it was literally just a big scratch - but it was red, jagged and bloody, which made it look worse than it was.

"Oh! You, uh. You," she looked up to find that I had removed my helmet, too, so that my secret identity was no longer hidden behind a mask. This fazed her: she was one of the few people in the world who got to see Captain America's real face.

Over in the other bed, Clint chuckled. "Yeah, he's a real handsome guy, isn't he?" he said, and I blushed a deep red, looking away from the nurse. She was about Sam's age, I remarked, and rather pretty.

The nurse quickly looked away from my face and instead her eyes landed on my chest, widening. Clint kept on chuckling, finding humor in our discomfort. Now, I don't mean to toot my own horn here, but I'm fully aware I have a solid, well-muscled chest. The Super Soldier Serum gave me the perfect human physique, after all, and Sam spent many nights curled into my chest, muttering about how damn attractive she found me. Especially, you know, my chest and arms.

The nurse gulped, regaining her composure as her eyes focused on the wound that split open about seven inches of my left side, down near my stomach and abs. "It's going to need stitches," she said, grabbing the rubbing alcohol and medicaments that were necessary to clean the wound. "Please lie back." I did as she instructed, lying down on the bed as she cleaned it from infection. "Do you want painkillers? Do you need me to numb it before I put in the stitches?" she asked politely, finally looking up at my face.

"I'm all right," I said. I didn't want to waste time with drugs and I knew my body healed at an accelerated rate, anyway. It wasn't a Wolverine kind of healing, but my immune system was heightened and faster than the average person.

"Yes, sir," she said, beginning to stitch up the injury. I kept my jaw clenched through the pain, concentrating on what I needed to say to Sam when I saw her; after a bit, I found that the stitches didn't really hurt all that much. In the end, I got thirty-seven inches (jeez, Sam was gonna love the scar that left) before the nurse cleaned the cut again and then wrapped a sterile white bandage around my torso. She went to work on my forehead next, stitching that up too and then slapping more white gauze on it.

"Thank you," I said, starting to get up as soon as she was done.

"Ah ah ah, you need to stay in bed and rest," she fiddled with the controls on the hospital bed.

"I just want to go see my girlfriend. Please," I begged her. "I've been separated from her all battle, I need to make sure she's okay, it's probably my fault she's hurt-"

The young Asian woman sighed, finally pointing out the door. "All right, fifth floor, intensive care unit, room 547," she sighed. "And then come right back."

"Thank you so much," I repeated over and over.

"Hey, thank _you_ for saving our city," she smiled. "The staff at the hospital really appreciate it."

"Just doing my duty as a soldier of the American people, ma'am," I nodded. I was almost at the door when Clint appeared by my side, apparently eager to join me in visiting Sam. I sighed, letting him tag along as the nurse stood there disapprovingly.

We found the room with difficulty, as there was so much security. Clint had abandoned his Hawkeye gear and I had only bothered to put on a hospital shirt - my stuff was too bloody. This made us look like a duo of lost scragglers rather than the Avengers we were, and they weren't going to let just anybody in to see weakened Avengers.

Finally we found Carol, standing outside their rooms. "Tony and Hank are in that one," she jerked her thumb behind her at a blue door, "and Sam and Tasha are in there," she pointed across the hall to another blue door. Carol was back in her civvies, and not a hair was out of place. She certainly did not look like she had just waged a war with an Asgardian deity.

A doctor in blue scrubs with short blonde hair and a large jaw stepped out of the girls' room, his face worried. He scurried down the hall, calling out for a few of the nurses. "That's Donald Blake, the head doctor," Carol explained. "He already figured out how to fix Tony, so the rest of them shouldn't be too far behind."

"Why'd he look so worried?" I asked, and Janet popped up beside Carol; she had been down the hall in the washroom. I reached for the door and was quickly pulled back by Carol's super strength.

"I don't think you should go in there," she said softly.

"What? Why? I just want to see Sam-"

"Yeah, she's not doing as well as the others."

I took one panicked look at the blonde's face and then ripped out of her grasp, slamming open the door and storming inside. Tasha and Sam lay sleeping peacefully on two different hospital beds that were beside each other, their head ends pushed up against the wall. On their right was a large bay window, overlooking the twinkling lights of the Big Apple. It was night now, a dark night, and still snowing.

Well. They were almost both sleeping peacefully.

Sam, who lay on the hospital bed furthest from the door and closest to the window, was having a seizure of some sort. The bed sheets were spontaneously combusting and then going out, random limbs kept turning into water, a fierce wind whipped around the room followed by a gentle breeze, and there were sudden but violent tremors in the ground. Her heart beat erratically, its every movement being shown on one of the many machines she was hooked up to.

"No!" I ran to her bedside and joined the two nurses, who were working their butts off to save her. I had to watch every terrifying moment as Sam's instability finally reached its fatal peak.

Fatal.

"Get out! Get out!" I pushed away the nurses. "You can't help her!" I cried, as suddenly we were all thrown back from the bed by a strong gale. Half of Sam's face became liquid. From deep within one of the pouches on my utility belt, which I still wore, I pulled out the stabilizing serum that Tony had made. It was already ready to go in its needle. Without pausing, I plunged it into the vein in her neck, as it seemed like the proper place to inject someone with serum. The nurses scurried out of the room, and I noticed Donald Blake standing in the doorway watching.

Clint and Jan joined me as I sat there staring at Sam, willing the serum to work. Finally, slowly, her powers became more controlled. Nothing went up in flames anymore, and she stopped shifting forms. I let out another relieved breath.

"Thank God we finally got rid of that problem," I said to Clint, and we smiled sadly at each other in relief. "I'm glad Tony made me hold on to an extra syringe of serum, just in case. Now I won't have to deal with an emotionally and mentally unstable partner anymore!" I laughed, not meaning offense although I probably sounded very bitter.

Suddenly, Sam's heart monitor flatlined. The unsteady beat of her heart had gone.

"No! This can't be happening!" I lunged for her, ripping the respirator off her mouth and beginning the only thing I knew how to do in this situation: CPR. I checked for breathing first, and my gut twisted painfully when I found none. I pumped her chest 30 times, then plugged her nose and tilted her head back for two breaths.

"Oh my God, oh my God," Janet was panicking by my side as I did the cycle once more. Unexpectedly, Sam's heart began to beat again; the heart monitor made the familiar beeping noise.

I sighed in relief. In the bed next to Sam, Natasha woke up, her red hair everywhere. Her bangs were sticking up all over the place. "What's going on?" her voice was tight as she looked at me, Jan and Clint standing over Sam.

"She was going crazy-unstable," Janet clutched a pillow from Nat's bed in her hands, "and then her heart stopped beating."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"I think so, Cap did CPR-"

The heart monitor flatlined again.

I lost no time in doing another cycle of CPR: 30 chest compressions, 2 breaths. "Come on, Sammy, wake up," I growled, pumping harder than I probably was supposed to. "Wake up!" She lay perfectly still on the bed, and I checked her pulse just in case the heart monitor wasn't working right. There was no pulse.

"No!" I cried, choking on the word as I went to do more chest compressions. "Sam, please, come _on_!" Her face had gone abnormally pale, and her bruises were beginning to look darker. Sam's blonde hair was splayed across the pillow, her hand limp and hanging over the side of the bed.

Janet ran off to the corner of the room, beginning to sob. Clint sat on Tasha's bed, holding her in a hug while we all watched Sam in fear. The heart monitor still showed no beat of her heart. There were suddenly two loud CRACKS that made Janet jump in fright as I did compressions: two of her ribs had cracked, or possibly broken. I knew it was a common occurance when doing CPR, and my Super Soldier strength probably had at least something to do with it, but it was still unsettling to think I was snapping my girlfriend's bones.

"Please come back, Samantha, please," I found myself begging as I pumped. "Please. I love you, I never got to tell you, but I love you so much, and I don't want to lose you, I _can't_ lose you. You have to be okay. Please." A third rib broke, and suddenly compressions came easier.

The monitor never changed. "Please, Sam, _wake up_," my voice cracked, but I kept at it. She still wasn't moving. I became acutely aware of the tears on my face - they were flowing freely, dripping onto my hospital shirt as they poured down my cheeks. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up-"

"Steve," Clint said gently, letting go of Natasha and getting up, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Steve," he said a bit more firmly as I kept pumping. Another rib cracked loudly.

"Sam, you're what matters most to me in this whole world right now, and I can't have you die, _you know what losing people does to me_-"

"Steve, let her go," Clint tried pulling my hands away. "She's dead-"

"No!" I roared, shielding Sam's body from him. Clint took a step back, shocked, when suddenly Natasha gasped.

"Steve, the Infinity Formula!"

My eyes widened. "No, we can't, I haven't talked to her about it yet, we don't have Sam's permission-"

"Steve, either we try Fury's goddamn Infinity Formula, or your order a body bag. She's _dead_."

I shuddered, but finally nodded tightly, unable to get the words out. "It's . . . it's at Avengers Tower," I suddenly realized, thinking of the destroyed building.

"I'll - I'll get Carol," Janet stuttered. "She can fly faster than I can . . ." she took one horrified look at me and then ran out of the building.

"Clint, go get an AED, or a doctor," Tasha whispered harshly.

"No," I spat, tears flowing freely. "No. You're both right. She's dead. Carol won't be able to get the formula fast enough."

It seemed as if all the air had been sucked from the room. I looked at Sam, at her pale, bruised face. She looked peaceful somehow. No more pain. No more nightmares or complicated drama or love. No more friends and family. No more sharing a bed with her warm body.

I collapsed to the floor and Clint knelt down, putting his arm around me as I found that he, too, was crying. I tried to pretend Sam was only sleeping, but it was so hard when I _knew_ I had lost her. But I _couldn't_ lose her, that wasn't part of the plan, this wasn't supposed to happen-

I grabbed her limp hand, the one that was hanging over the side of the bed. It was cold. She was gone. I was here and she wasn't, and I hadn't even gotten the chance to tell her goodbye or I love you. I should've protected her, forced her to take her serum, been with her during the battle, _anything_. What was life worth living for without someone to love, and without someone to love me back?

Carol suddenly burst in through the door and silently held out a syringe with shiny turquoise liquid in it. "It was in Iron Man's suit," she said softly.

"It's too late-"

"Try it," Carol pleaded, her eyes sad.

I grabbed the needle and plunged it into the same vein in Sam's neck as before, without another moment of hesitation.

Everyone in the room held their breath and I leaned down, kissing her hard but briefly on the lips. "Please wake up," I pleaded, "I love you, I love you, I can't lose you, you're the most important thing to me in the world."

Still, nothing happened. Carol sank to her knees beside Clint.

"Please," I said, and my voice broke. "Sam, I-"

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"Oh my God," I fell to the floor again, sobbing openly, my shoulders shaking as the tears ran down my face. I leaned my forehead against the edge of her bed, grabbing her limp hand in mine and clinging to it. "Thank God. Thank you, God, thank you," I murmured softly, praying.

Carol and Clint left since the heart monitor had started beeping again and the danger was over, leaving me to spend a few moments by myself. Well, mostly. In the bed behind me, Natasha's hands were folded in prayer as she said something quickly and softly in Russian.

I thought I had lost her. I really did, even though I had kept up the CPR. There she was, dying right in front of me, and there was nothing I could have done. Sam was my closest link to everything in this century. It was her who kept me on my feet; kept me fighting. I could imagine spending a lifetime, even an elongated one, with her. And to actually lose her? It was more painful than any wound a supervillain could inflict. She had died in my arms today, and now that she was okay I knew I could never let anything like that happen again. I hadn't even gotten the chance to tell her yet that I was in love with her. Losing her scared me past the point where even Captain America could be brave. I could face terrorists and the end of the world, no problem, but Sam's death? Well, it was the only thing that made me break down in sobs. She was so close to being gone forever. _So close_. It was like something out of my nightmares. I didn't want to imagine a world where I didn't have her.

"Hey . . . Steve?" Natasha asked tentatively from her bed. I sniffed, not looking away from Sam.

"Did you figure out yet who Sin is?" she asked.

"No," I said, my voice thick. "You said you knew . . ."

"I do. It's just . . . I don't . . ." she sighed. "Her full name is Sinthea Schmitt. As in daughter of Johann Schmitt."

This definitely made me look up in absolute shock and horror. "The Red Skull?!"

Natasha swallowed. "The one and only."

"But he's dead, he never had a daughter."

"He did, and a combination of aging and de-aging machines have brought her around to now. Did you forget? It's the Skull who originally said that suffering is what you do best. It's the Red Skull who wants to destroy you, not kill you."

"He's not back, is he?" my brow creased, and I absentmindedly clutched Sam's hand tighter.

"No, I don't believe so. His mission has just fallen to Sin," Natasha replied. "She's taking up the mantle of terror. She's out to make your life hell because of your rivalry with her father."

I sat back in stunned silence.

Tasha lowered her eyes. "We're all going to get caught in the crossfire, Steve. Sam is going to get caught in the crossfire." I looked back at Sam, who was still pale except for the dark bruises on her face. "I fear what Sin will do, Steve, and I don't fear much. She's going to rip you apart."

"I'll stop her."

"Be my guest. But Steve - if she does get her hands on Sam, or something . . . I saw you break down just now," she lowered her eyes again. "I doubt Sin will kill her - she'll do much worse. And if you get that upset over Sam dying, imagine how much it's going to break you if Sin breaks her. I hate to admit it, but the Skull was right. Suffering is what you're best at."

Natasha yawned, and I tried to smile weakly at her. "Look, I'm going to go," she finally announced after an awkward pause. "I know I'm supposed to stay in bed blah blah blah, but I want to check on the others. I'm perfectly fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Steve, I didn't die like Masquerade. Besides, I'm hungry."

"Oh. Okay."

She slipped out of the hospital bed and patted my shoulder. "Take care, Cap. Maybe sketch something to calm you down."

"That's a . . . that's a good idea."

"I know."

"Thanks, Nat."

"Don't mention it. Take care of Blondie for me," she jerked her chin at Sam. "I've tried to set that girl on the right path too many times for it to all go to shit now."

_Trust me, Tasha_, I thought as she walked out, swinging her hips, _I won't let Sam leave me again, even for a second_.

* * *

"Steve?"

I snapped awake, my head jerking up. I had fallen asleep in a chair between the two beds while I waited for Sam to wake up. She had one hand on my knee, and the other was tugging at the cords attached to her arm. "What the hell is all this?" she asked, trying to rip them out; she reached up for her face, too, trying to take out the apparatuses that helped her to breathe and monitored brain activity. "Get me out of this crap," she complained.

"No, wait, stop. Leave it, Sam. Please," I stood up, patting everything back into place.

"But it-"

"Please, Sam."

She stared at me hard for a long, quiet moment. She was alive, though! She was alive and she remembered me and she was back to her normal attitude. _She was alive_. And acting like nothing had ever even happened.

"How do you feel?" I asked gently, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Like I died," she groaned, stretching her legs.

"You did. Twice."

Sam turned to me, shocked. "What? Really?"

I nodded, closely examining every detail of her beautiful face. "I had to use CPR to bring you back. I . . . I broke four of your ribs," I grimaced. Now was not the time to be talking about the Infinity Formula, or even Tony's serum. One day, maybe, when she was healthier and stronger. But for now, she didn't need all that added pressure.

"Are you crying?" she asked softly, and I nodded reluctantly. "Oh, Stevie," she sighed, reaching out for a hug.

"I love you," I finally said, holding her in a hug.

"I love you, too," she cuddled into my arms. "And I'm not just saying it because you are."

I smiled, burying my face in her hair. "I know."

A small sob escaped my throat and she pulled back, putting her hands on either side of my face so she could look at me. "Oh, Stevie, sweetheart," Sam crooned. "It's okay. Everything's going to be fine."

I pulled her closer to me again, nuzzling her neck as I tried to calm my crying. She laid her head on my shoulder, blissfully unaware to what I had just gone through. I could feel her heart beating, and it was the most comforting thing all day. She really was fine. She was alive and her heart was pumping loudly and healthily. I could feel Sam's skin against mine, too, tingling where it came in contact. I breathed in through my nose, smiling a little at the smell of her skin and shampoo.

I closed my eyes and let my hands fall to her waist, rucking up her shirt so I could rub the warm skin there on her back. Sam leaned into me, sighing contentedly.

"I love you. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you," I repeated softly, holding her body closer to mine. "I'm so sorry that our lives have to be like this. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I love you too, Stevie," Sam murmured. "I want to spend my life with you, too."

"One day," I promised her. "One day we'll get married and have a few kids and settle down."

"One day? Steve, that day's never going to come. Our lives aren't . . . normal enough."

"When all the fighting's over," I promised.

"That's not going to happen. The fight is _always_ going on. Crime is turning into super-crime. The war has moved from the battlefields to the streets. It'll never be over."

"We'll fight it as long as we have to. Then others can take our place."

"Where is this all coming from?"

I shuddered. "I just - I just don't want to see you get hurt. I can't lose you."

"Spider-Man told me that with great power comes great responsibility. It's why we do what we do."

"Doesn't mean we have to be stupid about it."

She pulled back to look at me again. "Steve, I'm fine, really. You're fine, too. Everyone's fine." She frowned suddenly. "Wait, everyone is fine, right?"

I nodded, unable to look away from her beautiful face. Finally I crushed my lips to hers, pulling her closer once again and tilting her head back, dominating the kiss. Sam's lips were a bit swollen and bruised, but she still tasted the same; still felt the same against me.

"Were you serious?" she whispered against my lips. "Did you mean it when you said you wanted to spend your whole life with me? That you wanted to settle down and . . . and have kids?"

"I meant every word," I leaned forward to catch her lips again, hungrily aching for more. "I love you."

"Really?"

"Of course!"

"No, I mean, really, you meant every word?" she pulled back, wincing in pain from all her bruises and her ribs. Sam's Masquerade mask was still on, flecked in blood.

"Yes," I said. It was simple a simple answer, wasn't it?

"You would have kids," a slow smile crept across her face.

"One day," I hugged her tightly. "One day I want to watch you grow round and big and glowing with a baby and then have the baby call me Papa and you Mom and - and - you'd be a great mother."

"You'd be a better father," she clutched the fabric of my hospital shirt in her fingers tightly. "And then our kid would get kidnapped simply for being Captain America's kid and they'd be put in a ton of danger and we'd hate ourselves for ever bringing someone into this horrible world we live in."

"No, no, shh, don't talk like that," I furrowed my brow. "We'd retire if we had a kid. To keep them safe."

"Doesn't matter. Our enemies would still know who we are. And based on our messed-up gene pool, the kid would probably turn out a mutant, with my powers and incredible physical skills."

"Then we'd send them to the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning," I said softly. "At least that way they could learn to defend and take care of themselves."

"That's where the X-Men go?"

"Yeah."

Sam sighed heavily, as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. "At least that's a long way off. I just - I can't see you giving up being Captain America."

"Neither could I," I admitted. "And then I met you. Before, I was always Cap, 24/7. Steve Rogers didn't exist. But now that I have you, Sam, you force me to make time for Steve Rogers again. I get to be me because of you."

She leaned into me heavily, closing her eyes in exhaustion. "Thanks for being here for me, Steve."

"I wouldn't leave for the world," I kissed her on the top of the head.

"I feel really . . . vulnerable right now. I just want to curl up into a ball," she hugged me tighter. "But you're here, so it's okay. I can be vulnerable with you around."

"Did you get hurt? Are you okay?" I asked, noticing the white bandage wrapped around her shoulder.

"Um, yeah, I had some civilians help me out when I got major cuts on my legs," she shifted on the bed so she could stick them out in front of her. "The hospital has since cleaned up the wounds, I guess, since they weren't this well taken care of before." Although Sam still wore her costume, the knee-high boots had been removed and her entire lower legs were both all wrapped up in gauze and bandages. She wiggled her bare feet at the end, examining her bruised toes from afar.

"What about here?" I pulled away from her, holding up both her hands gently. They were wrapped loosely in more gauze.

"I - I don't know," she frowned, looking at them.

"You have second-degree burns on both your hands," came a deep voice, and I turned to see Doctor Donald Blake in the doorway. He was leaning heavily on a cane that I hadn't noticed before, and he limped into the room.

I immediately adopted a protective attitude. "Thanks for your help when she went into cardiac arrest," I said sarcastically, pulling Sam a bit closer. She pushed her mask up further on her face.

"You had it under control."

"I could've used an AED-" I began.

"Captain Rogers, Sam's fine now, there's no use dwelling in the past. The other three Avengers have all woken up as well, and their conditions are quickly getting better."

"And you know my name because . . . ?" Sam raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Because in the daytime I am mild-mannered Donald Blake, helper of the sick and injured, but at night and in times of crisis . . . " he grinned mysteriously, raising his cane above the ground. He slammed in downwards in one swift movement and it cracked against the floor loudly. There was a bright flash of white light, and I threw up a hand to shield my eyes from the glare.

". . . I am the mighty Thor!"

Sam and I looked up at Thor, who was now standing in the Doctor's place with Mjolnir in his hand, cape and blonde hair billowing.

Sam gasped. "You have an alter ego?"

"Donald Blake is Thor?" I couldn't believe it.

"Feast your eyes, friends, for it be true! Blake be Thor! Thor be Blake! Tis a sight for the mortal eyes, aye, but it doth be real!" Thor slammed Mjolnir down on the ground, and with another flash of light he was back to looking like a regular Midgardian doctor. "Haven't any of you ever wondered what I do with my days on Midgard? Where I am whenever you can't find me?"

"Do you know medicine?" Sam was sceptical.

"Of course!" he laughed a throaty chuckle. "I am head doctor; I wouldn't get to this position without knowing a thing or two," he winked. "Now, I have to get going to check on some of my other patients, but I shall see you two later, yes?" He limped out of the room without waiting for an answer. Sam and I looked at each other in astonishment.

"We'll, that was . . . unexpected," I murmured. There was a lengthy silence between us.

After a while, Sam spoke. "So, um, I saw Bucky. He saved my ass."

"Really?" I tensed up.

"One hundred percent really. He was definetly there, helping out. And he saved my life. Buck's a hero. He got me off the bridge after I was shot."

"Did he say anything? Have you seen him since?" I asked eagerly.

"Um, not really," she bit her lip. "But I think he feels that he's closer to, you know, having redeemed himself in his eyes. I bet you he'll show up at our door any day now."

A grin passed over my face, and I hugged Sam tighter. "Well, thank God he saved you. I don't know what I would've done otherwise . . . it was scary enough to lose you twice today, in the hospital . . ."

Barely a minute had passed before we had another visitor. It was my raven-haired nurse from downstairs.

"Hello, Captain? You were supposed to return to your . . . your room . . . a while ago . . ." she trailed off, noticing that I had Masquerade cuddled into my arms.

Sam, still in her mask, peeked out at the nurse over my shoulder. "Hello," she said meekly. The nurse waved back gingerly, as if she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do in this situation.

"I guess I'll just . . . I'll just leave you two," she fumbled over her words. "I mean, so long as you're okay, Captain."

"I'm fine. Thank you, ma'am," I nodded at her as Sam wrapped her arms around my torso, hugging me and pulling herself closer into my chest. I have to admit, I'm sure the nurse was remembering what my naked chest looked like just then.

"No problem, sir. Call if you need anything," she said, and then scurried out of the room. Sam giggled.

"I can't believe I have you all to myself," she said, her voice warm.

"Right back at you," I said. "Sam, I don't just love you, I'm _in_ love with you," I said, recalling an old conversation we had.

"Me too, Stevie. I'm in love with you, too."

* * *

**Author's Note: Well hello there. Not much to say today, but here's the penultimate chapter of _Silver Flames_. Thank you so much to _FellowshipOfAven_ and _Shelby_ for reviewing last chapter; I totally understand that there were only two reviews because you can't review one chapter twice (and I had posted that April Fool's thing), but I would love to hear from you all about this chapter! Thanks so much for reviewing, though, everyone!**

***Shudders* God, I just love that quote at the beginning. It's so damn perfect for this chapter, methinks.**

**By the way, there will be one more story in the _Silver_ series. Just one, y'know, if you're not sick of me and Sammy yet ;) It'll be titled _Silver Sparks_, and trust me, it'll be the most fucked up of all the stories. Seriously, I sometimes think I ought to check myself into a mental hospital. I do some pretty . . . _unforgivable_ things in the last book . . . **

**Also, did anyone catch that back in Chapter 7 (I think) when Sam met Deadpool, he mentioned that she was going to die in Chapter 24? No? Damn. Guess foreshadowing isn't as neat as I thought :P**

**Next chapter: Christmas and other stuff. Yeah.**

**Okay, _REALLY IMPORTANT_: I'm trying to make up a summary for the next story, and I only have a certain amount of characters to use up. Does this summary make sense? _Is evil something you are, or something you do? Samantha, Cap's girlfriend and fellow Avenger, doesn't know the answer anymore. They're starting a family together, but it couldn't have been at a worse time. Both Thanos and Ultron are targeting the Avengers, and they're falling apart. Sam needs to know: when does forgiveness become too much to ask for?_**

**Thanks for reading, please review, and READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	25. Sam Gets Mad - AUTHOR APOLOGY

**I'M BACK, BITCHES.**

* * *

BAM.

BAM.

BANG.

"ALEXA YOU LITTLE SHIT, LET ME IN!"

The lean, wiry girl sitting at the computer jumped and let out a tiny yelp, glancing towards her bedroom door fearfully. BAM. Someone was banging on it forcefully, making the whole wall shudder. BANG. She slapped a hand over her mouth to prevent a frightened scream, slipping from her chair onto the floor.

"I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" a decidedly female and very, very angry voice shouted from the other side of the door.

Alexa crawled on her hands and knees under her desk, cowering under there and shutting her eyes tightly, praying that the intruder would go away. There was some sort of commotion outside the room, and then a loud CRACK as the door was kicked in and the lock broken.

Alexa was dragged, whimpering, out from under the desk. "Just what do you think you're doing?" the angry female voice asked. Lexi looked up to see Masquerade, a superhero who was most definitely not in the best of moods, standing over her. Her blonde hair was frizzy and her mask askew; to her left stood Hawkeye, who looked a lot more muscular in person. "You have ONE CHAPTER LEFT."

"Yeah, and it's from my point of view!" Hawkeye complained, crossing his arms over his chest.

"One chapter and the story is over," Masquerade mimicked his stance. "I mean, sure, you've got one more story afterwards to tie up all the loose ends . . . but really! Do you know how long it's been since you last wrote 'Silver Flames'?"

Alexa's eyes widened. "I - I'm sorry! I really, really am!"

"So am I," Hawkeye grumbled. "You and your lazy butt just couldn't-"

Alexa cleared her throat. "I had some stuff going on, okay?" Masquerade snorted in disbelief. "Like, seriously, health issues and stuff at school and I've been on a complete emotional roller coaster. Life has really, really sucked for me these past few months. Like - maybe I need some of Tony's stabilizing serum just to calm my brain down."

"That doesn't mean you can just abandon us," Masquerade spoke a bit more softly.

"I know," Lexi sighed, hanging her head. "But it's all done now, and I just started summer vacation, so I can get back on track. I knew you'd come banging on my door one day . . . I just . . . I'm sorry," she sighed again.

Hawkeye reached down and helped her up, back onto her chair in front of the computer. "No worries. Just get writing, honey."

All of a sudden, Alexa started to laugh. It freaked out both Hawkeye and Masquerade, and they looked at each other in confusion. The laugh turned into an evil-villain laugh, becoming louder and more crazed as the seconds passed.

"Um . . ." Masquerade raised an eyebrow.

It died down to a giggle, and Alexa turned to her computer gleefully. "Oh, don't worry about it, dear. It's just that - soon enough, you'll be wishing you _hadn't_ come to get me to start writing again."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Masquerade flipped out, her voice going high-pitched.

Alexa flexed her fingers. "Just that I have some . . . unforgivable stuff planned for you, Masquerade, darling. Trust me, you're not getting out of this one in very good shape. I'd even go so far as to say you'll wish you were dead by the end of this last story. Yes, I think that's reasonable."

Masquerade lunged forward, shaking the thin teenage girl; Hawkeye pulled her back. "You can't interfere, Sam, she's the author; you have to let her do what she wants."

"YOLO," Lexi giggled.

Masquerade let out a screech as Hawkeye dragged her out of the room. "_What are you going to do to me_?!"

Alexa just cackled again and opened up a new Word document. Oh, my. This was going to be fun.

* * *

**Last chapter and new story coming soon.**


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